UiBSB  UBRARY 


/ 

(j&C*s£A~  A^i^^t^t^^^    (s(l4^0.   r^<^> 

M. 


r>-^ 


'X 


Fronthf>ifce. 


"  Come  in,  Curdic"  said  the  voice. 


I 'age  65. 


THE    PRINCESS    AND 
CURDIE 

BY 

GEORGE   MAC  DONALD,   LL.D 


WITH  ELEVEN  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  JAMES  ALLEN 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT   &    CO. 
1883. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PAGB 

I.  THE  MOUNTAIN I 

II.  THE  WHITE   PIGEON 9 

III.  THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON       .  1 8 

IV.  CURDIE'S   FATHER  AND  MOTHER        .          .  33 
V.  THE  MINERS 39 

VI.  THE  EMERALD 45 

VII.  WHAT   IS    IN   A   NAME?        ....  51 

viii.  CURDIE'S  MISSION      .....  61 

IX.  HANDS 80 

X.  THE   HEATH 86 

XI.  LINA 91 

XII.  MORE  CREATURES 97 

xiii.  THE  BAKER'S  WIFE    .....  101 

XIV.  THE   DOGS   OF   GVVYNTYSTORM    .           .           .  log 

XV.  DERBA   AND   BARBARA           .           .           .          .  Il6 

XVI.  THE  MATTOCK     .          .          .    '     .          .          .  122 

XVII.  THE  WINE  CELLAR 130 

XVIII.  THE  KING'S  KITCHEN          ....  136 

XIX.  THE   KING'S    CHAMBER         .                                 .  142 

XX.  COUNTER-PLOTTING              .          .          .          .  153 

XXI.  THE  LOAF  .....,,  l6l 

XXII.  THE  LORD  CHAMBERLAIN            .          .  167 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PAr-R 

XXIII.  DR.  KELMAN 175 

XXIV.  THE  PROPHECY             •          .          .          •          •  183 
XXV.      THE  AVENGERS *92 

XXVI.  THE  VENGEANCE           .          .          .          .          •  *99 

XXVII.      MORE  VENGEANCE 207 

XXVIII.  THE    PREACHER             .          .          •          .  2I1 

XXIX.      BARBARA 221 

XXX.  PETER            .           .          .          •          •          .          •  226 

XXXI.     THE  SACRIFICE »229 

xxxn.    THE  KING'S  ARMY 234 

XXXIII.  THE  BATTLE 24I 

XXXIV.  JUDGMENT            »•••••  247 
XXXV.  THE  END    .         .         •         •         •                   •  252 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 


CHAPTER  L 

THE    MOUNTAIN. 

'URDIE  was  the  son  of  Peter  the  miner. 
He  lived  with  his  father  and  mother  in 
a  cottage  built  on  a  mountain,  and  he 
worked  with  his  father  inside  the  mountain. 
A  mountain  is  a  strange  and  awful  thing.  In  old 
times,  without  knowing  so  much  of  their  strangeness  and 
awful  ness  as  we  do,  people  were  yet  more  afraid  of 
mountains.  But  then  somehow  they  had  not  come  to 
see  how  beautiful  'they  are  as  well  as  awful,  and  they 
hated  them, — and  what  people  hate  they  must  fear. 
Now  that  we  have  learned  to  look  at  them  with  admira- 
tion, perhaps  we  do  not  always  feel  quite  awe  enough 
of  them.  To  me  they  are  beautiful  terrors. 


2  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

I  will  try  to  tell  you  what  they  are.  They  are  portions 
of  the  heart  of  the  earth  that  have  escaped  from  the 
dungeon  down  below,  and  rushed  up  and  out.  For 
the  heart  of  the  earth  is  a  great  wallowing  mass,  not 
of  blood,  as  in  the  hearts  of  men  and  animals,  but  of 
glowing  hot  melted  metals  and  stones.  And  as  our  hearts 
keep  us  alive,  so  that  great  lump  of  heat  keeps  the 
earth  alive  :  it  is  a  huge  power  of  buried  sunlight — 
that  is  what  it  is.  Now  think  :  out  of  that  caldron, 
where  all  the  bubbles  would  be  as  big  as  the  Alps  if 
it  could  get  room  for  its  boiling,  certain  bubbles 
have  bubbled  out  and  escaped — up  and  away,  and 
there  they  stand  in  the  cool,  cold  sky — mountains. 
Think  of  the  change,  and  you  will  no  more  wonder  that 
there  should  be  something  awful  about  the  very  look 
of  a  mountain  :  from  the  darkness — for  where  the  light 
has  nothing  to  shine  upon,  it  is  much  the  same  as 
darkness — from  the  heat,  from  the  endless  tumult  of 
boiling  unrest — up,  with  a  sudden  heavenward  shoot,  into 
the  wind,  and  the  cold,  and  the  starshine,  and  a  cloak  of 
snow  that  lies  like  ermine  above  the  blue-green  mail  of 
the  glaciers  ;  and  the  great  sun,  their  grandfather,  up 
there  in  the  sky  ;  and  their  little  old  cold  aunt,  the 
moon,  that  comes  wandering  about  the  house  at  night ; 
and  everlasting  stillness,  except  for  the  wind  that  turns 
the  rocks  and  caverns  into  a  roaring  organ  for  the  young 


THE  MOUNTAIN.  3 

archangels  that  are  studying  how  to  let  out  the  pent-up 
praises  of  their  hearts,  and  the  molten  music  of  the 
streams,  rushing  ever  from  the  bosoms  of  the  glaciers 
fresh-born.  Think  too  of  the  change  in  their  own 
substance — no  longer  molten  and  soft,  heaving  and 
glowing,  but  hard  and  shining  and  cold.  Think  of  the 
creatures  scampering  over  and  burrowing  in  it,  and  the 
birds  building  their  nests  upon  it,  and  the  trees  growing 
out  of  its  sides,  like  hair  to  clothe  it,  and  the  lovely 
grass  in  the  valleys,  and  the  gracious  flowers  even  at  the 
very  edge  of  its  armour  of  ice,  like  the  rich  embroidery 
of  the  garment  below,  and  the  rivers  galloping  down 
the  valleys  in  a  tumult  of  white  and  green  !  And  along 
with  all  these,  think  of  the  terrible  precipices  down 
which  the  traveller  may  fall  and  be  lost,  and  the  frightful 
gulfs  of  blue  air  cracked  in  the  glaciers,  and  the  dark 
profound  lakes,  covered  like  little  arctic  oceans  with 
floating  lumps  of  ice.  All  this  outside  the  mountain ! 
But  the  inside,  who  shall  tell  what  lies  there  ?  Caverns 
of  awfullest  solitude,  their  walls  miles  thick,  spark- 
ling with  ores  of  gold  or  silver,  copper  or  iron,  tin  or 
mercury,  studded  perhaps  with  precious  stones — perhaps 
a  brook,  with  eyeless  fish  in  it,  running,  running  cease- 
less, cold  and  babbling,  through  banks  crusted  with 
carbuncles  and  golden  topazes,,  or  over  a  gravel  of  which 
some  of  the  stones  are  rubies  and  emeralds,  perhaps 


4  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

diamonds  and  sapphires — who  can  tell? — and  whoever 
can't  tell  is  free  to  think — all  waiting  to  flash,  waiting  for 
millions  of  ages — ever  since  the  earth  flew  off*  from  the 
sun,  a  great  blot  of  fire,  and  began  to  cool.  Then  there 
are  caverns  full  of  water,  numbing  cold,  fiercely  hot — 
hotter  than  any  boiling  water.  From  some  of  these  the 
water  cannot  get  out,  and  from  others  it  runs  in 
channels  as  the  blood  in  the  body :  little  veins  bring  it 
down  from  the  ice  above  into  the  great  caverns  of  the 
mountain's  heart,  whence  the  arteries  let  it  out  again, 
gushing  in  pipes  and  clefts  and  ducts  of  all  shapes  and 
kinds,  through  and  through  its  bulk,  until  it  springs  new- 
born to  the  light,  and  rushes  down  the  mountain  side  in 
torrents,  and  down  the  valleys  in  rivers— -down,  down, 
rejoicing,  to  the  mighty  lungs  of  the  world,  that  is  the 
sea,  where  it  is  tossed  in  storms  and  cyclones,  heaved 
up  in  billows,  twisted  in  waterspouts,  dashed  to  mist 
upon  rocks,  beaten  by  millions  of  tails,  and  breathed  by 
millions  of  gills,  whence  at  last,  melted  into  vapour  by 
the  sun,  it  is  lifted  up  pure  into  the  air,  and  borne  by 
the  servant  winds  back  to  the  mountain  tops  and  the 
snow,  the  solid  ice,  and  the  molten  stream. 

Well,  when  the  heart  of  the  earth  has  thus  come 
rushing  up  among  her  children,  bringing  with  it  gifts  of 
all  that  she  possesses,  then  straightway  into  it  rush  her 
children  to  see  what  they  can  find  there.  With  pickaxe 


THE  MO  UNTAIN.  5 

and  spade  and  crowbar,  with  boring  chisel  and  blasting 
powder,  they  force  their  way  back  :  is  it  to  search  for 
what  toys  they  may  have  left  in  their  long-forgotten 
nurseries  ?  Hence  the  mountains  that  lift  their  heads 
into  the  clear  air,  and  are  dotted  over  with  the  dwellings 
of  men,  are  tunnelled  and  bored  in  the  darkness  of  their 
bosoms  by  the  dwellers  in  the  houses  which  they  hold 
up  to  the  sun  and  air. 

Curdie  and  his  father  were  of  these :  their  business 
was  to  bring  to  light  hidden  things ;  they  sought  silver 
in  the  rock  and  found  it,  and  carried  it  out.  Of  the 
many  other  precious  things  in  their  mountain  they  knew 
little  or  nothing.  Silver  ore  was  what  they  were  sent  to 
find,  and  in  darkness  and  danger  they  found  it.  But 
oh,  how  sweet  was  the  air  on  the  mountain  face  when 
they  came  out  at  sunset  to  go  home  to  wife  and  mother ! 
They  did  breathe  deep  then  ! 

The  mines  belonged  to  the  king  of  the  country,  and 
the  miners  were  his  servants,  working  under  his  overseers 
and  officers.  He  was  a  real  king — that  is  one  who  ruled 
for  the  good  of  his  people,  and  not  to  please  himself, 
and  he  wanted  the  silver  not  to  buy  rich  things  for 
himself,  but  to  help  him  to  govern  the  country,  and  pay 
the  armies  that  defended  it  from  certain  troublesome 
neighbours,  and  the  judges  whom  he  set  to  portion  out 
righteousness  amongst  the  people,  that  so  they  might 


6  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

learn  it  themselves,  and  come  to  do  without  judges  at  all. 
Nothing  that  could  be  got  from  the  heart  of  the  earth 
could  have  been  put  to  better  purposes  than  the  silver 
the  king's  miners  got  for  him.  There  were  people  in 
the  country  who,  when  it  came  into  their  hands, 
degraded  it  by  locking  it  up  in  a  chest,  and  then  it  grew 
•diseased  and  was  called  mammon,  and  bred  all  sorts  of 
quarrels ;  but  when  first  it  left  the  king's  hands  it  never 
made  any  but  friends,  and  the  air  of  the  world  kept  it 
clean. 

About  a  year  before  this  story  began,  a  series  of  very 
remarkable  events  had  just  ended.  I  will  narrate  as 
much  of  them  as  will  serve  to  show  the  tops  of  the  roots 
of  my  tree. 

Upon  the  mountain,  on  one  of  its  many  claws,  stood 
a  grand  old  house,  half  farmhouse,  half  castle,  belonging 
to  the  king ;  and  there  his  only  child,  the  Princess  Irene, 
had  been  brought  up  till  she  was  nearly  nine  years  old, 
and  would  doubtless  have  continued  much  longer,  but 
for  the  strange  events  to  which  I  have  referred. 

At  that  time  the  hollow  places  of  the  mountain  were 
inhabited  by  creatures  called  goblins,  who  for  various 
reasons  and  in  various  ways  made  themselves  trouble- 
some to  all,  but  to  the  little  princess  dangerous.  Mainly 
by  the  watchful  devotion  and  energy  of  Curdie,  however, 
their  designs  had  been  utterly  defeated,  and  made  to 


THE  MOUNTAIN.  7 

recoil  upon  themselves  to  their  own  destruction,  so  that 
now  there  were  very  few  of  them  left  alive,  and  the 
miners  did  not  believe  there  was  a  single  goblin  remain- 
ing in  the  whole  inside  of  the  mountain. 

The  king  had  been  so  pleased  with  the  boy — then 
approaching  thirteen  years  of  age — that  when  he  carried 
away  'his  daughter  he  asked  him  to  accompany  them  ; 
but  he  was  still  better  pleased  with  him  when  he  found 
that  he  preferred  staying  with  his  father  and  mother. 
He  was  a  right  good  king,  and  knew  that  the  love  of  a 
boy  who  would  not  leave  his  father  and  mother  to  be 
made  a  great  man,  was  worth  ten  thousand  offers  to  die 
for  his  sake,  and  would  prove  so  when  the  right  time 
came.  For  his  father  and  mother,  they  would  have 
given  him  up  without  a  grumble,  for  they  were  just  as 
good  as  the  king,  and  he  and  they  perfectly  understood 
each  other ;  but  in  this  matter,  not  seeing  that  he  could 
do  anything  for  the  king  which  one  of  his  numerous 
attendants  could  not  do.  as  well,  Curdie  felt  that  it  was 
for  him  to  decide.  So  the  king  took  a  kind  farewell 
of  them  all  and  rode  away,  with  his  daughter  on  his 
horse  before  him. 

A  gloom  fell  upon  the  mountain  and  the  miners  when 
she  was  gone,  and  Curdie  did  not  whistle  for  a  whole 
week.  As  for  his  verses,  there  was  no  occasion  to  make 
any  now.  He  had  made  them  only  to  drive  away  the 


8  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

goblins,  and  they  were  all  gone — a  good  riddance — only 
the  princess  was  gone  too  !  He  would  rather  have  had 
things  as  they  were,  except  for  the  princess's  sake.  But 
whoever  is  diligent  will  soon  be  cheerful,  and  though  the 
miners  missed  the  household  of  the  castle,  they  yet 
managed  to  get  on  without  them. 

Peter  and  his  wife,  however,  were  troubled  with  the 
fancy  that  they  had  stood  in  the  way  of  their  boy's  good 
fortune.  It  would  have  been  such  a  fine  thing  for  him 
and  them  too,  they  thought,  if  he  had  ridden  with  the 
good  king's  train.  How  beautiful  he  looked,  they  said, 
when  he  rode  the  king's  own  horse  through  the  river  that 
the  goblins  had  sent  out  of  the  hill !  He  might  soon 
have  been  a  captain,  they  did  believe  !  The  good,  kind 
people  did  not  reflect  that  the  road  to  the  next  duty  is 
the  only  straight  one,  or  that,  for  their  fancied  good,  we 
should  never  wish  our  children  or  friends  to  do  what  we 
would  not  do  ourselves  if  we  were  in  their  position.  We 
must  accept  righteous  sacrifices  as  well  as  make  them. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   WHITE   PIGEON. 

HEN  in  the  winter  they  had  had  their 
supper  and  sat  about  the  fire,  or  when  in 
the  summer  they  lay  on  the  border  of  the 
rock-margined  stream  that  ran  through 
their  little  meadow,  close  by  the  door  of  their  cottage, 
issuing  from  the  far-up  whiteness  often  folded  in 
clouds,  Curdie's  mother  would  not  seldom  lead  the  con- 
versation to  one  peculiar  personage  said  and  believed  to 
have  been  much  concerned  in  the  late  issue  of  events. 
That  personage  was  the  great-great-grandmother  of  the 
princess,  of  whom  the  princess  had  often  talked,  but  whom 
neither  Curdie  nor  his  mother  had  ever  seen.  Curdie 
could  indeed  remember,  although  already  it  looked  more 
like  a  dream  than  he  could  account  for  if  it  had  really 
taken  place,  how  the  princess  had  once  led  him  up  many 
stairs  to  what  she  called  a  beautiful  room  in  the  top  of 
the  tower,  where  she  went  through  all  the — what  should 


10  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

he  call  it? — the  behaviour  of  presenting  him  to  her 
grandmother,  talking  now  to  her  and  now  to  him,  while 
all  the  time  he  saw  nothing  but  a  bare  garret,  a  heap  of 
musty  straw,  a  sunbeam,  and  a  withered  apple.  Lady, 
he  would  have  declared  before  the  king  himself,  young 
or  old,  there  was  none,  except  the  princess  herself,  who 
was  certainly  vexed  that  he  could  not  see  what  she  at 
least  believed  she  saw.  And  for  his  mother,  she  had 
once  seen,  long  before  Curdie  was  born,  a  certain 
mysterious  light  of  the  same  description  with  one  Irene 
spoke  of,  calling  it  her  grandmother's  moon ;  and  Curdie 
himself  had  seen  this  same  light,  shining  from  above  the 
castle,  just  as  the  king  and  princess  were  taking  their 
leave.  Since  that  time  neither  had  seen  or  heard  any- 
thing that  could  be  supposed  connected  with  her. 
Strangely  enough,  however,  nobody  had  seen  her  go 
away.  If  she  was  such  an  old  lady,  she  could  hardly  be 
supposed  to  have  set  out  alone  and  on  foot  when  all  the 
house  was  asleep.  Still,  away  she  must  have  gone,  for  of 
course,  if  she  was  so  powerful,  she  would  always  be 
about  the  princess  to  take  care  of  her. 

But  as  Curdie  grew  older,  he  doubted  more  and 
more  whether  Irene  had  not  been  talking  of  some 
dream  she  had  taken  for  reality :  he  had  heard  it  said 
that  children  could  not  always  distinguish  betwixt  dreams 
and  actual  events.  At  the  same  time  there  was  his 


THE  WHITE  PIGEON.  II 

mother's  testimony :  what  was  he  to  do  with  that  ?  His 
mother,  through  whom  he  had  learned  everything,  could 
hardly  be  imagined  by  her  own  dutiful  son  to  have  mis- 
taken a  dream  for  a  fact  of  the  waking  world.  So  he 
rather  shrunk  from  thinking  about  it,  and  the  less  he 
thought  about  it,  the  less  he  was  inclined  to  believe  it 
when  he  did  think  about  it,  and  therefore,  of  course,  the 
less  inclined  to  talk  about  it  to  his  father  and  mother ; 
for  although  his  father  was  one  of  those  men  who  for  one 
word  they  say  think  twenty  thoughts,  Curdie  was  well 
assured  that  he  would  rather  doubt  his  own  eyes  than  his 
wife's  testimony.  There  were  no  others  to  whom  he  could 
have  talked  about  it.  The  miners  were  a  mingled  com- 
pany— some  good,  some  not  so  good,  some  rather  bad — 
none  of  them  so  bad  or  so  good  as  they  might  have 
been  ;  Curdie  liked  most  of  them,  and  was  a  favourite 
with  all;  but  they  knew  very  little  about  the  upper 
world,  and  what  might  or  might  not  take  place  there. 
They  knew  silver  from  copper  ore  ;  they  understood  the 
underground  ways  of  things,  and  they  could  look  very 
wise  with  their  lanterns  in  their  hands  searching  after  this 
or  that  sign  of  ore,  or  for  some  mark  to  guide  their  way 
in  the  hollows  of  the  earth ;  but  as  to  great-great-grand- 
mothers, they  would  have  mocked  him  all  the  rest  of  his 
life  for  the  absurdity  of  not  being  absolutely  certain  thai 
the  solemn  belief  of  his  father  and  mother  was  nothing 


12  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

but  ridiculous  nonsense.  "Why,  to  them  the  very  word 
"great-great-grandmother"  would  have  been  a  week's 

*• 

laughter !  I  am  not  sure  that  they  were  able  quite  to 
believe  there  were  such  persons  as  great-great-grand- 
mothers; they  had  never  seen  one.  They  were  not 
companions  to  give  the  best  of  help  towards  progress, 
and  as  Curdie  grew,  he  grew  at  this  time  faster  in  body 
than  in  mind — with  the  usual  consequence,  that  he  was 
getting  rather  stupid — one  of  the  chief  signs  of  which 
was  that  he  believed  less  and  less  of  things  he  had  never 
seen.  At  the  same  time  I  do  not  think  he  was  ever  so 
stupid  as  to  imagine  that  this  was  a  sign  of  superior 
faculty  and  strength  of  mind.  Still,  he  was  becoming 
more  and  more  a  miner,  and  less  and  less  a  man  of  the 
upper  world  where  the  wind  blew.  On  his  way  to  and 
from  the  mine  he  took  less  and  less  notice  of  bees  and 
butterflies,  moths  and  dragon-flies,  the  flowers  and  the 
brooks  and  the  clouds.  He  was  gradually  changing  into 
a  commonplace  man.  There  is  this  difference  between 
the  growth  of  some  human  beings  and  that  of  others  :  in 
the  one  case  it  is  a  continuous  dying,  in  the  other  a 
continuous  resurrection.  One  of  the  latter  sort  comes  at 
length  to  know  at  once  whether  a  thing  is  true  the 
moment  it  comes  before  him ;  one  of  the  former  class 
grows  more  and  more  afraid  of  being  taken  in,  so  afraid 
of  it  that  he  takes  himself  in  altogether,  and  comes  at 


THE  WHITE  PIGEON.  13 

length  to  believe  in  nothing  but  his  dinner :  to  be  sure  of 
a  thing  with  him  is  to  have  it  between  his  teeth.  Curdie 
was  not  in  a  very  good  way  then  at  that  time.  His  father 
and  mother  had,  it  is  true,  no  fault  to  find  with  him — and 
yet — and  yet — neither  of  them  was  ready  to  sing  when 
the  thought  of  him  came  up.  There  must  be  something 
wrong  when  a  mother  catches  herself  sighing  over  the 
time  when  her  boy  was  in  petticoats,  or  the  father  looks 
sad  when  he  thinks  how  he  used  to  carry  him  on  his 
shoulder.  The  boy  should  enclose  and  keep,  as  his  life, 
the  old  child  at  the  heart  of  him,  and  never  let  it  go.  He 
must  still,  to  be  a  right  man,  be  his  mother's  darling,  and 
more,  his  father's  pride,  and  more.  The  child  is  not 
meant  to  die,  but  to  be  for  ever  fresh-born. 

Curdie  had  made  himself  a  bow  and  some  arrows,  and 
was  teaching  himself  to  shoot  with  them.  One  evening 
in  the  early  summer,  as  he  was  walking  home  from  the 
mine  with  them  in  his  hand,  a  light  flashed  across  his 
eyes.  He  looked,  and  there  was  a  snow-white  pigeon 
settling  on  a  rock  in  front  of  him,  in  the  red  light  of  the 
level  sun.  There  it  fell  at  once  to  work  with  one  of  its 
wings,  in  which  a  feather  or  two  had  got  some  sprays 
twisted,  causing  a  certain  roughness  unpleasant  to  the 
fastidious  creature  of  the  air.  It  was  indeed  a  lovely 
being,  and  Curdie  thought  how  happy  it  must  be  flitting 

through  the  air  with  a  flash — a  live  bolt  of  light.     For  a 

2 


14  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

moment  he  became  so  one  with  the  bird  that  he  seemed 
to  feel  both  its  bill  and  its  feathers,  as  the  one  adjusted 
the  other  to  fly  again,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  the 
pleasure  of  its  involuntary  sympathy.  Another  moment 
and  it  would  have  been  aloft  in  the  waves  of  rosy  light 
— it  was  just  bending  its  little  legs  to  spring :  that  moment 
it  fell  on  the  path  broken-winged  and  bleeding  from 
Curdie's  cruel  arrow.  With  a  gush  of  pride  at  his  skill, 
and  pleasure  at  its  success,  he  ran  to  pick  up  his  prey.  I 
must  say  for  him  he  picked  it  up  gently — perhaps  it  was 
the  beginning  of  his  repentance.  But  when  he  had  the 
white  thing  in  his  hands — its  whiteness  stained  with 
another  red  than  that  of  the  sunset  flood  in  which  it  had 
been  revelling — ah  God  !  who  knows  the  joy  of  a  bird, 
the  ecstasy  of  a  creature  that  has  neither  storehouse  nor 
barn  ! — when  he  held  it,  I  say,  in  his  victorious  hands, 
the  winged  thing  looked  up  in  his  face — and  with  such 
eyes  !  asking  what  was  the  matter,  and  where  the  red  sun 
had  gone,  and  the  clouds,  and  the  wind  of  its  flight. 
Then  they  closed,  but  to  open  again  presently,  with  the 
same  questions  in  them.  And  so  they  closed  and  opened 
several  times,  but  alwavs  when  they  opened,  their  look  was 
fixed  on  his.  It  did  not  once  flutter  or  try  to  get  away  ; 
it  only  throbbed  and  bled  and  looked  at  him.  Curdie's 
heart  began  to  grow  very  large  in  his  bosom.  What 
could  it  mean  ?  It  was  nothing  but  a  pigeon,  and  why 


moment  the  pigeon  fell  on  the  path,  broken-winged  and  bleeding." 

Page  14. 


THE  WHITE  PIGEON.  15 

should  he  not  kill  a  pigeon?  But  the  fact  was,  that  not 
till  this  very  moment  had  he  ever  known  what  a  pigeon 
was.  A  good  many  discoveries  of  a  similar  kind  have  to 
be  made  by  most  of  us.  Once  more  it  opened  its  eyes — 
then  closed  them  again,  and  its  throbbing  ceased.  Curdie 
gave  a  sob  :  its  last  look  reminded  him  of  the  princess — 
he  did  not  know  why.  He  remembered  how  hard  he  had 
laboured  to  set  her  beyond  danger,  and  yet  what  dangers 
she  had  had  to  encounter  for  his  sake :  they  had  teen 
saviours  to  each  other — and  what  had  he  done  now  ? 
He  had  stopped  saving,  and  had  begun  killing!  What 
had  he  been  sent  into  the  world  for?  Surely  not  to  be  a 
death  to  its  joy  and  loveliness.  He  had  done  the  thing 
that  was  contrary  to  gladness  ;  he  was  a  destroyer  !  He 
was  not  the  Curdie  he  had  been  meant  to  be  !  Then  the 
underground  waters  gushed  from  the  boy's  heart.  And 
with  the  tears  came  the  remembrance  that  a  white 
pigeon,  just  before  the  princess  went  away  with  her 
father,  came  from  somewhere— yes^  from  the  grand- 
mother's lamp,  and  flew  round  the  king  and  Irene  and 
himself,  and  then  flew  away :  this  might  be  that  very 
pigeon  !  Horrible  to  think  !  And  if  it  wasn't,  yet  it  was 
a  white  pigeon,  the  same  as  it.  And  if  she  kept  a  great 
many  pigeons — and  white  ones,  as  Irene  had  told  him, 
then  whose  pigeon  could  he  have  killed  but  the  grand 
old  princess's?  Suddenly  everything  round  about  him 


16  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD  IE, 

seemed  against  him.  The  red  sunset  stung  him :  the 
rocks  frowned  at  him ;  the  sweet  mnd  that  had  been 
laving  his  face  as  he  walked  up  the  hill,  dropped — as  if 
he  wasn't  fit  to  be  kissed  any  more.  Was  the  whole 
world  going  to  cast  him  out  ?  Would  he  have  to  stand 
there  for  ever,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  with  the  dead 
pigeon  in  his  hand  ?  Things  looked  bad  indeed.  Was 
the  whole  world  going  to  make  a  work  about  a  pigeon — 
a  white  pigeon?  The  sun  went  down.  Great  clouds 
gathered  over  the  west,  and  shortened  the  twilight.  The 
wind  gave  a  howl,  and  then  lay  down  again.  The  clouds 
gathered  thicker.  Then  came  a  rumbling.  He  thought 
it  was  thunder.  It  was  a  rock  that  fell  inside  the 
mountain.  A  goat  ran  past  him  down  the  hill,  followed 
by  a  dog  sent  to  fetch  him  home.  He  thought  they  were 
goblin  creatures,  and  trembled.  He  used  to  despise 
them.  And  still  he  held  the  dead  pigeon  tenderly  in  his 
hand.  It  grew  darker  and  darker.  An  evil  something 
began  to  move  in  his  heart.  "  What  a  fool  I  am  ! "  he  said 
to  himself.  Then  he  grew  angry,  and  was  just  going  to 
throw  the  bird  from  him  and  whistle,  when  a  brightness 
shone  all  round  him.  He  lifted  his  eyes,  and  saw  a 
great  globe  of  light — like  silver  at  the  hottest  heat :  he 
had  once  seen  silver  run  from  the  furnace.  It  shone 
from  somewhere  above  the  roofs  of  the  castle :  it 
must  be  the  great  old  princess's  moon  !  How  could  she 


THE  WHITE  PIGEON.  17 

be  there  ?  Of  course  she  was  not  there !  He  had 
asked  the  whole  household,  and  nobody  knew  anything 
about  her  or  her  globe  either.  It  couldn't  be  !  And  yet 
what  did  that  signify,  when  there  was  the  white  globe 
shining,  and  here  was  the  dead  white  bird  in  his  hand  ? 
That  moment  the  pigeon  gave  a  little  flutter.  "  Jfs  not 
dead/"  cned  Curdie,  almost  with  a  shriek.  The  same 
instant  he  was  running  full  speed  towards  the  castle, 
never  letting  his  heels  down,  lest  he  should  shake  the 
poor  wounded  bird. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON. 

HEN  Curdle  reached  the  castle,  and  ran 
into  the  little  garden  in  front  of  it,  there 
stood  the  door  wide  open.  This  was  as 
he  had  hoped,  for  what  could  he  have 
said  if  he  had  had  to  knock  at  it?  Those  whose 
business  it  is  to  open  doors,  so  often  mistake  and  shut 
them !  But  the  woman  now  in  charge  often  puzzled 
herself  greatly  to  account  for  the  strange  fact  that  hcw- 
ever  often  she  shut  the  door,  which,  like  the  rest,  she 
look  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  trouble  to  do,  she  was 
certain,  the  next  time  she  went  to  it,  to  find  it  open.  I 
speak  now  of  the  great  front  door,  of  course  :  the  back 
door  she  as  persistently  kept  wide :  if  people  could  only 
go  in  by  that,  she  said,  she  would  then  know  what  sort 
they  were,  and  what  they  wanted.  But  she  would  neither 
have  known  what  sort  Curdie  was,  nor  what  he  wanted, 
and  would  assuredly  have  denied  him  admittance,  for  she 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON.          19 

knew  nothing  of  who  was  in  the  tower.     So  the  front 
door  was  left  open  for  him,  and  in  he  walked. 

But  where  to  go  next  he  could  not  tell.  It  was  not 
quite  dark  :  a  dull,  shineless  twilight  filled  the  place. 
All  he  knew  was  that  he  must  go  up,  and  that  proved 
enough  for  the  present,  for  there  he  saw  the  great  stair- 
case rising  before  him.  When  he  reached  the  top  of  it, 
he  knew  there  must  be  more  stairs  yet,  for  he  could  not 
be  near  the  top  of  the  tower.  Indeed  by  the  situation  of 
the  stair,  he  must  be  a  good  way  from  the  tower  itself.- 
But  those  who  work  well  in  the  depths  more  easily 
understand  the  heights,  for  indeed  in  their  true  nature 
they  are  one  and  the  same :  mines  are  in  mountains ; 
and  Curdie  from  knowing  the  ways  of  the  king's  mines, 
and  being  able  to  calculate  his  whereabouts  in  them,  was 
now  able  to  find  his  way  about  the  king's  house.  He 
knew  its  outside  perfectly,  and  now  his  business  was  to 
get  his  notion  of  the  inside  right  with  the  outside.  So 
he  shut  his  eyes  and  made  a  picture  of  the  outside  of 
it  in  his  mind.  Then  he  came  in  at  the  door  of  the 
picture,  and  yet  kept  the  picture  before  him  all  the  time 
— for  you  can  do  that  kind  of  thing  in  your  mind, — and 
took  every  turn  of  the  stair  over  again,  always  watching 
to  remember,  every  time  he  turned  his  face,  how  the 
tower  lay,  and  then  when  he  came  to  himself  at  the  top 
where  he  stood,  he  knew  exactly  where  it  was,  and  walked 


20  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

at  once  in  the  right  direction.  On  his  way,  however,  he 
came  to  another  stair,  and  up  that  he  went  of  course, 
watching  still  at  every  turn  how  the  tower  must  lie.  At 
the  top  of  this  stair  was  yet  another — they  were  the  stairs 
up  which  the  princess  ran  when  first,  without  knowing  it, 
she  was  on  her  way  to  find  her  great-great-grandmother. 
At  the  top  of  the  second  stair  he  could  go  no  farther, 
and  must  therefore  set  out  again  to  find  the  tower,  which, 
as  it  rose  far  above  the  rest  of  the  house,  must  have  the 
last  of  its  stairs  inside  itself.  Having  watched  every 
turn  to  the  very  last,  he  still  knew  quite  well  in  what 
direction  he  must  go  to  find  it,  so  he  left  the  stair  and 
went  down  a  passage  that  led,  if  not  exactly  towards  it, 
yet  nearer  it  This  passage  was  rather  dark,  for  it  was 
very  long,  with  only  one  window  at  the  end,  and  although 
there  were  doors  on  both  sides  of  it,  they  were  all  shut. 
At  the  distant  window  glimmered  the  chill  east,  with  a 
few  feeble  stars  in  it,  and  its  light  was  dreary  and  old, 
growing  brown,  and  looking  as  if  it  were  thinking  about 
the  day  that  was  just  gone.  Presently  he  turned  into 
another  passage,  which  also  had  a  window  at  the  end  of 
it ;  and  in  at  that  window  shone  all  that  was  left  of  the 
sunset,  a  few  ashes,  with  here  and  there  a  little  touch  of 
warmth :  it  was  nearly  as  sad  as  the  east,  only  there  was 
one  difference — it  was  very  plainly  thinking  of  to-morrow. 
But  at  present  Curdie  had  nothing  to  do  with  to-day  or 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON.          21 

to-morrow ;  his  business  was  with  the  bird,  and  the  tower 
where  dwelt  the  grand  old  princess  to  whom  it  belonged. 
So  he  kept  on  his  way,  still  eastward,  and  came  to  yet 
another  passage,  which  brought  him  to  a  door.  He  was 
afraid  to  open  it  without  first  knocking.  He  knocked, 
but  heard  no  answer.  He  was  answered  nevertheless; 
for  the  door  gently  opened,  and  there  was  a  narrow  stair 
— and  so  steep  that,  big  lad  as  he  was,  he  too,  like  the 
Princess  Irene  before  him,  found  his  hands  needful  for 
the  climbing.  And  it  was  a  long  climb,  but  he  reached 
the  top  at  last — a  little  landing,  with  a  door  in  front  and 
one  on  each  side.  Which  should  he  knock  at  ? 

As  he  hesitated,  he  heard  the  noise  of  a  spinning- 
wheel.  He  knew  it  at  once,  because  his  mother's  spin- 
ning-wheel had  been  his  governess  long  ago,  and  still 
taught  him  things.  It  was  the  spinning-wheel  that  first 
taught  him  to  make  verses,  and  to  sing,  and  to  think 
whether  all  was  right  inside  him ;  or  at  least  it  had  helped 
him  in  all  these  things.  Hence  it  was  no  wonder  he 
should  know  a  spinning-wheel  when  he  heard  it  sing — 
even  although  as  the  bird  of  paradise  to  other  birds  was 
the  song  of  that  wheel  to  the  song  of  his  mother's. 

He  stood  listening  so  entranced  that  he  forgot  to 
knock,  and  the  wheel  went  on  and  on,  spinning  in  his 
brain  songs  and  tales  and  rhymes,  till  he  was  almobt 
asleep  as  well  as  dreaming,  for  sleep  does  not  always 


22  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

come  first  But  suddenly  came  the  thought  of  the  poor 
bird,  which  had  been  lying  motionless  in  his  hand  all  the 
time,  and  that  woke  him  up,  and  at  once  he  knocked. 

"Come  in,  Curdie,"  said  a  voice. 

Curdie  shook.  It  was  getting  rather  awful.  The  heart 
that  had  never  much  heeded  an  army  of  goblins,  trembled 
at  the  soft  word  of  invitation.  But  then  there  was  the 
red-spotted  white  thing  in  his  hand !  He  dared  not 
hesitate,  though.  Gently  he  opened  the  door  through 
which  the  sound  came,  and  what  did  he  see?  Nothing 
at  first — except  indeed  a  great  sloping  shaft  of  moon- 
light, that  came  in  at  a  high  window,  and  rested  on  the 
floor.  He  stood  and  stared  at  it,  forgetting  to  shut  the  door. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in,  Curdie?"  said  the  voice. 
"  Did  you  never  see  moonlight  before  ?  " 

"Never  without  a  moon,"  answered  Curdie,  in  a 
trembling  tone,  but  gathering  courage. 

"  Certainly  not,"  returned  the  voice,  which  was  thin  and 
quavering :  "  /  never  saw  moonlight  without  a  moon." 

"  But  there's  no  moon  outside,"  said  Curdie. 

"Ah  !  but  you're  inside  now,"  said  the  voice. 

The  answer  did  not  satisfy  Curdie;  but  the  voice 
went  on. 

"There  are  more  moons  than  you  know  of,  Curdie. 
Where  there  is  one  sun  there  are  many  moons — and  of 
many  sorts.  Come  in  and  look  out  of  my  window,  and 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON.         23 

you  will  soon  satisfy  yourself  that  there  is  a  moon  looking 
in  at  it." 

The  gentleness  of  the  voice  made  Curdie  remember 
his  manners.  He  shut  the  door,  and  drew  a  step  or  two 
nearer  to  the  moonlight. 

All  the  time  the  sound  of  the  spinning  had  been  going 
on  and  on,  and  Curdie  now  caught  sight  of  the  wheel. 
Oh,  it  was  such  a  thin,  delicate  thing — reminding  him  of 
a  spider's  web  in  a  hedge  !  It  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  moonlight,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  moonlight  had 
nearly  melted  it  away.  A  step  nearer,  he  saw,  with  a 
start,  two  little  hands  at  work  with  it.  And  then  at  last, 
in  the  shadow  on  the  other  side  of  the  moonlight  which 
came  like  a  river  between,  he  saw  the  form  to  which  the 
hands  belonged  :  a  small,  withered  creature,  so  old  that 
no.  age  would  have  seemed  too  great  to  write  under  her 
picture,  seated  on  a  stool  beyond  the  spinning-wheel, 
which  looked  very  large  beside  her,  but,  as  I  said,  veiy 
thin,  like  a  long-legged  spider  holding  up  its  own  web, 
which  was  the  round  wheel  itself.  She  sat  crumpled 
together,  a  filmy  thing  that  it  seemed  a  puff  would  blow 
away,  more  like  the  body  of  a  fly  the  big  spider  had 
sucked  empty  and  left  hanging  in  his  web,  than  anything 
else  I  can  think  of. 

When  Curdie  saw  her,  he  stood  still  again,  a  good  deal 
in  wonder,  a  very  little  in  reverence,  a  little  in  doubt,  and, 


24  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

I  must  add,  a  little  in  amusement  at  the  odd  look  of  the 
old  marvel.  Her  grey  hair  mixed  with  the  moonlight  so 
that  he  could  not  tell  where  the  one  began  and  the  other 
ended.  Her  crooked  back  bent  forward  over  her  chest, 
her  shoulders  nearly  swallowed  up  her  head  between 
them,  and  her  two  little  hands  were  just  like  the  grey 
claws  of  a  hen,  scratching  at  the  thread,  which  to  Curdie 
was  of  course  invisible  across  the  moonlight.  Indeed 
Curdie  laughed  within  himself,  just  a  little,  at  the  sight ; 
and  when  he  thought  of  how  the  princess  used  to  talk 
about  her  huge  great  old  grandmother,  he  laughed  more. 
But  that  moment  the  little  lady  leaned  forward  into  the 
moonlight,  and  Curdie  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  eyes,  and 
all  the  laugh  went  out  of  him. 

"  What  do  you  come  here  for,  Curdie  ? "  she  said,  as 
gently  as  before. 

Then  Curdie  remembered  that  he  stood  there  as  a 
culprit,  and  worst  of  all,  as  one  who  had  his  confession 
yet  to  make.  There  was  no  time  to  hesitate  over  it. 

"  Oh,  ma'am  !  see  here,"  he  said,  and  advanced  a  step 
or  two,  holding  out  the  dead  pigeon. 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  "  she  asked. 

Again  Curdie  advanced  a  few  steps,  and  held  out  his 
hand  with  the  pigeon,  that  she  might  see  what  it  was. 
into  the  moonlight.  The  moment  the  rays  fell  upon  it 
the  pigeon  gave  a  faint  flutter.  The  old  lady  put  out 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON.         25 

her  old  hands  and  took  it,  and  held  it  to  her  bosom, 
and  rocked  it,  murmuring  over  it  as  if  it  were  a  sick  baby. 

When  Curdie  saw  how  distressed  she  was  he  grew 
sorrier  still,  and  said, — 

"I  didn't  mean  to  do  any  harm,  ma'am.  I  didn't 
think  of  its  being  yours." 

"  Ah,  Curdie  !  if  it  weren't  mine,  what  would  become 
of  it  now  ?  "  she  returned.  "  You  say  you  didn't  mean 
any  harm  :  did  you  mean  any  good,  Curdie  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Curdie. 

"  Remember,  then,  that  whoever  does  not  mean  good 
is  always  in  danger  of  harm.  But  I  try  to  give  every- 
body fair  play ;  and  those  that  are  in  the  wrong  are  in  far 
more  need  of  it  always  than  those  who  are  in  the  right : 
they  can  afford  to  do  without  it.  Therefore  I  say  for 
you  that  when  you  shot  that  arrow  you  did  not  know 
what  a  pigeon  is.  Now  that  you  do  know,  you  are  sorry. 
It  is  very  dangerous  to  do  things  you  don't  know  about." 

"  But,  please,  ma'am — I  don't  mean  to  be  rude  or  to 
contradict  you,"  said  Curdie,  "  but  if  a  body  was  never  to 
do  anything  but  what  he  knew  to  be  good,  he  would  have 
to  live  half  his  time  doing  nothing." 

"There  you  are  much  mistaken,"  said  the  old  quaver- 
ing voice.  "  How  little  you  must  have  thought !  Why, 
you  don't  seem  even  to  know  the  good  of  the  things  you 
are  constantly  doing.  Now  don't  mistake  me.  I  don't 


26  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

mean  you  are  good  for  doing  them.  It  is  a  good  thing 
to  eat  your  breakfast,  but  you  don't  fancy  it's  very  good 
of  you  to  do  it.  The  thing  is  good — not  you." 

Curdie  laughed. 

"  There  are  a  great  many  more  good  things  than  bad 
things  to  do.  Now  tell  me  what  bad  thing  you  have 
done  to-day  besides  this  sore  hurt  to  my  little  white 
friend." 

While  she  talked  Curdie  had  sunk  into  a  sort  of  reverie, 
in  which  he  hardly  knew  whether  it  was  the  old  lady  or 
his  own  heart  that  spoke.  And  when  she  asked  him 
that  question,  he  was  at  first  much  inclined  to  consider 
himself  a  very  good  fellow  on  the  whole.  "I  really 
don't  think  I  did  anything  else  that  was  very  bad  all 
day,"  he  said  to  himself.  But  at  the  same  time  he  could 
not  honestly  feel  that  he  was  worth  standing  up  for.  All  at 
once  a  light  seemed  to  break  in  upon  his  mind,  and  he 
woke  up,  and  there  was  the  withered  little  atomy  of  the 
old  lady  on  the  other  side  of  the  moonlight,  and  there 
was  the  spinning-wheel  singing  on  and  on  in  the  middle 
of  it! 

"  I  know  now,  ma'am ;  I  understand  now,"  he  said. 
"  Thank  you,  ma'am  for  spinning  it  into  me  with  your 
wheel.  I  see  now  that  I  have  been  doing  wrong  the 
whole  day,  and  such  a  many  days  besides  !  Indeed,  I 
don't  know  when  I  ever  did  right,  and  yet  it  seems  as  if  I 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOOM          27 

had  done  right  some  time  and  had  forgotten  how.  When 
I  killed  your  bird  I  did  not  know  I  was  doing  wrong,  just 
because  I  was  always  doing  wrong,  and  the  wrong  had 
soaked  all  through  me." 

"  What  wrong  were  you  doing  all  day,  Curdie  ?  It  is 
better  to  come  to  the  point,  you  know,"  said  the  old  lady, 
and  her  voice  was  gentler  even  than  before. 

"  I  was  doing  the  wrong  of  never  wanting  or  trying  to 
be  better.  And  now  I  see  that  I  have  been  letting  things 
go  as  they  would  for  a  long  time.  Whatever  came  into 
my  head  I  did,  and  whatever  didn't  come  into  my  head 
I  didn't  do.  I  never  sent  anything  away,  and  never 
looked  out  for  anything  to  come.  I  haven't  been  attend- 
ing to  my  mother — or  my  father  either.  And  now  I 
think  of  it,  I  know  I  have  often  seen  them  looking 
troubled,  and  I  have  never  asked  them  what  was  the 
matter.  And  now  I  see  too  that  I  did  not  ask  because 
I  suspected  it  had  something  to  do  with  me  and  my 
behaviour,  and  didn't  want  to  hear  the  truth.  And  I 
know  I  have  been  grumbling  at  my  work,  and  doing  a 
hundred  other  things  that  are  wrong." 

"You  have  got  it,  Curdie,"  said  the  old  lady,  in  a 
voice  that  sounded  almost  as  if  she  had  been  crying. 
"  When  people  don't  care  to  be  better  they  must  be 
doing  everything  wrong.  I  am  so  glad  you  shot  my 
bird ! " 


28  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

"  Ma'am  ! "  exclaimed  Curdle.     "  How  can  you  be  ?  " 

"Because  it  has  brought  you  to  see  what  sort  you 
were  when  you  did  it,  and  what  sort  you  will  grow  to  be 
again,  only  worse,  if  you  don't  mind.  Now  that  you  are 
sorry,  my  poor  bird  will  be  better.  Look  up,  my  dovey." 

The  pigeon  gave  a  flutter,  and  spread  out  one  of  its 
red-spotted  wings  across  the  old  woman's  bosom. 

"  I  will  mend  the  little  angel,"  she  said,  "  and  in  a 
week  or  two  it  will  be  flying  again.  So  you  may  ease 
your  heart  about  the  pigeon." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  thank  you  ! "  cried  Curdie.  "  I  don't 
Icnow  how  to  thank  you." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you.  There  is  only  one  way  I  care 
for.  Do  better,  and  grow  better,  and  be  better.  And 
never  kill  anything  without  a  good  reason  for  it." 

"  Ma'am,  I  will  go  and  fetch  my  bow  and  arrows,  and 
you  shall  burn  them  yourself." 

"  I  have  no  fire  that  would  burn  your  bow  and  arrows, 
Curdie." 

"Then  I  promise  you  to  burn  them  all  under  my 
mother's  porridge-pot  to-morrow  morning." 

"No,  no,  Curdie.  Keep  them,  and  practise  with 
them  every  day,  and  grow  a  good  shot.  There  are  plenty 
of  bad  things  that  want  killing,  and  a  day  will  come  when 
they  will  prove  useful.  But  I  must  see  first  whether  you 
will  do  as  I  tell  you." 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOON.         29 

•'  That  I  will !  "  said  Curdie.     "  What  is  it,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Only  something  not  to  do,"  answered  the  old  lady ; 
"  if  you  should  hear  any  one  speak  about  me,  never  to 
laugh  or  make  fun  of  me." 

"  Oh,  ma'am  ! "  exclaimed  Curdie,  shocked  that  she 
should  think  such  a  request  needful. 

"  Stop,  stop,"  she  went  on.  "  People  hereabout  some- 
times tell  very  odd  and  in  fact  ridiculous  stories  of  an 
old  woman  who  watches  what  is  going  on,  and  occa- 
sionally interferes.  They  mean  me,  though  what  they 
say  is  often  great  nonsense.  Now  what  I  want  of  you  is 
not  to  laugh,  or  side  with  them  in  any  way ;  because 
they  will  take  that  to  mean  that  you  don't  believe  there 
is  any  such  person  a  bit  more  than  they  do.  Now  that 
would  not  be  the  case — would  it,  Curdie  ?  " 

"  No  indeed,  ma'am.     I've  seen  you." 

The  old  woman  smiled  very  oddly. 

"  Yes,  you've  seen  me,"  she  said.  "  But  mind,"  she 
continued,  "  I  don't  want  you  to  say  anything — only 
to  hold  your  tongue,  and  not  seem  to  side  with  them." 

"That  will  be  easy,"  said  Curdie,  "  now  that  I've  seen 
you  with  my  very  own  eyes,  ma'am." 

"Not  so  easy  as  you  think,  perhaps,"  said  the  old 
lady,  with  another  curious  smile.  "  I  want  to  be  your 
friend,"  she  added  after  a  little  pause,  "  but  I  don't  quite 
know  yet  whether  you  will  let  me." 


30  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  Indeed  I  will,  ma'am,"  said  Curdie. 

"  That  is  for  me  to  find  out,"  she  rejoined,  with  yet 
another  strange  smile.  "  In  the  meantime  all  I  can  say 
is,  come  to  me  again  when  you  find  yourself  in  any  trouble, 
and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you — only  the  fanning 
depends  on  yourself.  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  you 
for  bringing  me  my  pigeon,  doing  your  best  to  set  right 
what  you  had  set  wrong." 

As  she  spoke  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  and 
when  he  took  it  she  made  use  of  his  to  help  herself 
up  from  her  stool,  and — when  or  how  it  came 
about,  Curdie  could  not  tell — the  same  instant  she 
stood  before  him  a  tall,  strong  woman — plainly  very  old, 
but  as  grand  as  she  was  old,  and  only  rather  severe- 
looking.  Every  trace  of  the  decrepitude  and  witheredness 
she  showed  as  she  hovered  like  a  film  about  her  wheel, 
had  vanished.  Her  hair  was  very  white,  but  it  hung 
about  her  head  in  great  plenty,  and  shone  like  silver  in 
the  moonlight.  Straight  as  a  pillar  she  stood  before  the 
astonished  boy,  and  the  wounded  bird  had  now  spread  out 
both  its  wings  across  her  bosom,  like  some  great  mystical 
ornament  .of  frosted  silver. 

"  Oh,  now  I  can  never  forget  you  ! "  cried  Curdie.  "  I 
see  now  what  you  really  are  ! " 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  the  truth  when  I  sat  at  my 
wheel  ?  "  said  the  old  lady. 


"The  "wounded  bird  now  spread  out  both  its  wings  across  her  bosom, , " 

Page  30. 


THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  SILVER  MOOtf.,        31 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Curdie. 

"  I  can  do  no  more  than  tell  you  the  truth  now,"  she 
rejoined.  "  It  is  a  bad  thing  indeed  to  forget  one 
who  has  told  us  the  truth.  Now  go." 

Curdie  obeyed,  and  took  a  few  steps  towards  the  door. 

"  Please,  ma'am," — "  what  am  I  to  call  you  ?  "  he  was 
going  to  say;  but  when  he  turned  to  speak,  he  saw 
nobody.  Whether  she  was  there  or  not  he  could  not 
tell,  however,  for  the  moonlight  had  vanished,  and  the 
room  was  utterly  dark.  A  great  fear,  such  as  he  had 
never  before  known,  came  upon  him,  and  almost  over- 
whelmed him.  He  groped  his  way  to  the  door,  and 
crawled  down  the  stair— in  doubt  and  anxiety  as  to  how 
he  should  find  his  way  out  of  the  house  in  the  dark.  And 
the  stair  seemed  ever  so  much  longer  than  when  he  came 
up.  Nor  was  that  any  wonder,  for  down  and  down  he 
went,  until  at  length  his  foot  struck  on  a  door,  and  when 
he  rose  and  opened  it,  he  found  himself  under  the  starry, 
moonless  sky  at  the  foot  of  the  tower.  He  soon  dis- 
covered the  way  out  of  the  garden,  with  which  he  had 
some  acquaintance  already,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was 
climbing  the  mountain  with  a  solemn  and  cheerful  heart. 
It  was  rather  dark,  but  he  knew  the  way  well.  As  he 
passed  the  rock  from  which  the  poor  pigeon  fell  wounded 
with  his  arrow,  a  great  joy  filled  his  heart  at  the  thought 
that  he  was  delivered  from  the  blood  of  the  little  bird, 


33  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

and  he  ran  the  next  hundred  yards  at  full  speed  up 
the  hill  Some  dark  shadows  passed  him :  he  did 
not  even  care  to  think  what  they  were,  but  let  them 
run.  When  he  reached  home,  he  found  his  father  and 
mother  waiting  supper  for  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CURDIE'S  FATHER  AND  MOTHER. 

IHE  eyes  of  the  fathers  and  mothers  are 
quick  to  read  their  children's  looks,  and 
when  Curdie  entered  the  cottage,  his 
parents  saw  at  once  that  something  un- 
usual had  taken  place.  When  he  said  to  his  mother, 
"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  being  so  late,"  there  was 
something  in  the  tone  beyond  the  politeness  that  went 
to  her  heart,  for  it  seemed  to  come  from  the  place  where 
all  lovely  things  were  born  before  they  began  to  grow 
in  this  world.  When  he  set  his  father's  chair  to  the  table, 
an  attention  he  had  not  shown  him  for  a  long  time, 
Peter  thanked  him  with  more  gratitude  than  the  boy 
had  ever  yet  felt  in  all  his  life.  It  was  a  small  thing 
to  do  for  the  man  who  had  been  serving  him  since  ever 
he  was  born,  but  I  suspect  there  is  nothing  a  man  can  be 
so  grateful  for  as  that  to  which  he  has  the  most  right. 
There  was  a  change  upon  Curdie,  and  father  and  mother 


34  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

felt  there  must  be  something  to  account  for  it,  and 
therefore  were  pretty  sure  he  had  something  to  tell  them. 
For  when  a  child's  heart  is  all  light,  it  is  not  likely  he 
will  want  to  keep  anything  from  his  parents.  But  the 
story  of  the  evening  was  too  solemn  for  Curdie  to  come 
out  with  all  at  once.  He  must  wait  until  they  had  had 
their  porridge,  and  the  affairs  of  this  world  were  over  for 
the  day.  But  when  they  were  seated  on  the  grassy  bank 
of  the  brook  that  went  so  sweetly  blundering  over  the 
great  stones  of  its  rocky  channel,  for  the  whole  meadow 
lay  on  the  top  of  a  huge  rock,  then  he  felt  that  the  right 
hour  had  come  for  sharing  with  them  the  wonderful 
things  that  had  come  to  him.  It  was  perhaps  the 
loveliest  of  all  hours  in  the  year.  The  summer  was 
young  and  soft,  and  this  was  the  warmest  evening  they 
had  yet  had — dusky,  dark  even  below,  while  above  the 
stars  were  bright  and  large  and  sharp  in  the  blackest  blue 
sky.  The  night  came  close  around  them,  clasping  them 
in  one  universal  arm  of  love,  and  although  k  neither 
spoke  nor  smiled,  seemed  all  eye  and  ear,  seemed  to  see 
and  hear  and  know  everything  they  said  and  did.  It  is 
a  way  the  night  has  sometimes,  and  there  is  a  reason  for 
it.  The  only  sound  was  that  of  the  brook,  for  there  was 
no  wind,  and  no  trees  for  it  to  make  its  music  upon  if 
there  had  been,  for  the  cottage  was  high  up  on  the 
mountain,  on  a  great  shoulder  of  stone  where  trees  would 


CURDIE' S  FATHER  AND  MOTHER.  35 

not  grow.  There,  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  water,  as 
it  hurried  down  to  the  valley  and  the  sea,  talking 
busily  of  a  thousand  true  things  which  it  could  not 
understand,  Curdie  told  his  tale,  outside  and  in,  to  his 
father  and  mother.  What  a  world  had  slipped  in 
between  the  mouth  of  the  mine  and  his  mother's  cottage  ! 
Neither  of  them  said  a  word  until  he  had  ended. 

"  Now  what  am  I  to  make  of  it,  mother  ?  It's  so 
strange  ! "  he  said,  and  stopped. 

"  It's  easy  enough  to  see  what  Curdie  has  got  to  make 
of  it — isn't  it,  Peter  ?  "  said  the  good  woman,  turning  her 
face  towards  all  she  could  see  of  her  husband's. 

"  It  seems  so  to  me,"  answered  Peter,  with  a  smile, 
which  only  the  night  saw,  but  his  wife  felt  in  the  tone 
of  his  words.  They  were  the  happiest  couple  in  that 
country,  because  they  always  understood  each  other, 
and  that  was  because  they  always  meant  the  same  thing, 
and  that  was  because  they  always  loved  what  was  fair 
and  true  and  right  better — not  than  anything  else,  but 
than  everything  else  put  together. 

"  Then  will  you  tell  Curdie  ?  "  said  she. 

"You  can  talk  best,  Joan,"  said  he.  "You  tell  him, 
and  I  will  listen — and  learn  how  to  say  what  I  think  " 
he  added,  laughing. 

"7,"  said  Curdie,  "  don't  know  what  to  think." 

"  It  does  not  matter  so  much,"  said  his  mother.     "  If 


36  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

only  you  know  what  to  make  of  a  thing,  you'll  know 
soon  enough  what  to  think  of  it.  Now  I  needn't 
tell  you,  surely,  Curdie,  what  you've  got  to  do  with 
this?" 

"I  suppose  you  mean,  mother,"  answered  Curdie, 
"  that  I  must  do  as  the  old  lady  told  me  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  mean :  what  else  could  it  be  ?  Am 
I  not  right,  Peter  ?  " 

"  Quite  right,  Joan,"  answered  Peter,  "  so  far  as  my 
judgment  goes.  It  is  a  very  strange  story,  but  you  see 
the  question  is  not  about  believing  it,  for  Curdie 
knows  what  came  to  him." 

fl^nd  you  remember,  Curdie,"  said  his  mother,  "  that 
wften  the  princess  took  you  up  that  tower  once  before, 
and  there  talked  to  her  great-great-grandmother,  you 
came  home  quite  angry  with  her,  and  said  there  was 
nothing  in  the  place  but  an  old  tub,  a  heap  of  straw — 
oh,  I  remember  your  inventory  quite  well ! — an  old  tub, 
a  heap  of  straw,  a  withered  apple,  and  a  sunbeam.  Ac- 
cording to  your  eyes,  that  was  all  there  was  in  the  great 
old  musty  garret.  But  now  you  have  had  a  glimpse  of 
the  old  princess  herself ! " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  did  see  her — or  if  I  didn't, — "  said 
Curdie  very  thoughtfully — then  began  again.  "The 
hardest  thing  to  believe,  though  I  saw  it  with  my  own 
eyes,  was  when  the  thin,  filmy  creature,  that  seemed 


CUR  DIE'S  FATHER  AND  MOTHER.  37 

almost  to  float  about  in  the  moonlight  like  a  bit  of  the 
silver  paper  they  put  over  pictures,  or  like  a  handkerchief 
made  of  spider-threads,  took  my  hand,  and  rose  up.  She 
was  taller  and  stronger  than  you,  mother,  ever  so  much  ! 
— at  least,  she  looked  so." 

"And  most  certainly  was  so,  Curdie,  if  she  looked  so," 
said  Mrs.  Peterson. 

"Well,  I  confess,"  returned  her  son,  "that  one  thing, 
if  there  were  no  other,  would  make  me  doubt  whether  I 
was  not  dreaming  after  all,  for  as  wide  awake  as  I 
fancied  myself  to  be." 

"Of  course,"  answered  his  mother,  "it  is  not  for  me 
to  say  whether  you  were  dreaming  or  not  if  you  are  doubt- 
ful of  it  yourself;  but  it  doesn't  make  me  think  I  am 
dreaming  when  in  the  summer  I  hold  in  my  hand  the 
bunch  of  sweet-peas  that  make  my  heart  glad  with  their 
colour  and  scent,  and  remember  the  dry,  withered-looking 
little  thing  I  dibbled  into  the  hole  in  the  same  spot  in 
the  spring.  I  only  think  how  wonderful  and  lovely  it  all 
is.  It  seems  just  as  full  of  reason  as  it  is  of  wonder. 
How  it  is  done  I  can't  tell,  only  there  it  is  !  And  there 
is  this  in  it  too,  Curdie — of  which  you  would  not  be  so 
ready  to  think — that  when  you  come  home  to  your 
father  and  mother,  and  they  find  you  behaving  more  like  a 
dear  good  son  than  you  have  behaved  for  a  long  time,  they 
at  least  are  not  likely  to  think  you  were  only  dreaming." 


38  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"Still,"  said  Curdie,  looking  a  little  ashamed,  "I 
might  have  dreamed  my  duty." 

"  Then  dream  often,  my  son  ;  for  there  must  then  be 
more  truth  in  your  dreams  than  in  your  waking  thoughts. 
But  however  any  of  these  things  may  be,  this  one  point 
remains  certain :  there  can  be  no  harm  in  doing  as  she 
told  you.  And,  indeed,  until  you  are  sure  there  is  no 
such  person,  you  are  bound  to  do  it,  for  you  promised." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  his  father,  "that  if  a  lady 
comes  to  you  in  a  dream,  Curdie,  and  tells  you  not  to 
talk  about  her  when  you  wake,  the  least  you  can  do  is  to 
hold  your  tongue." 

"True,  father! — Yes,  mother,  I'll  do  it,"  said  Curdie. 

Then  they  went  to  bed,  and  sleep,  which  is  the  night 
of  the  soul,  next  took  them  in  its  arms  and  made  them 
well. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   MINERS. 

T  much  increased  Curdie's  feeling  of  the 
strangeness  of  the  whole  affair,  that,  the 
next  morning,  when  they  were  at  work 
in  the  mine,  the  party  of  which  he 
and  his  father  were  two,  just  as  if  they  had  known 
what  had  happened  to  him  the  night  before,  began 
talking  about  all  manner  of  wonderful  tales  that  were 
abroad  in  the  country,  chiefly  of  course  those  con- 
nected with  the  mines,  and  the  mountains  in  which  they 
lay.  Their  wives  and  mothers  and  grandmothers  were 
their  chief  authorities.  For  when  they  sat  by  their 
firesides  they  heard  their  wives  telling  their  children  the 
selfsame  tales,  with  little  differences,  and  here  and  there 
one  they  had  not  heard  before,  which  they  had  heard 
their  mothers  and  grandmothers  tell  in  one  or  other 
of  the  same  cottages.  At  length  they  came  to  speak  of  a 
certain  strange  being  they  called  Old  Mother  Wotherwop. 


40  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

Some  said  their  wives  had  seen  her.  It  appeared  as 
they  talked  that  not  one  had  seen  her  more  than  once. 
Some  of  their  mothers  and  grandmothers,  however,  had 
seen  her  also,  and  they  all  had  told  them  tales  about  her 
when  they  were  children.  They  said  she  could  take  any 
shape  she  liked,  but  that  in  reality  she  was  a  withered 
old  woman,  so  old  and  so  withered  that  she  was  as  thin 
as  a  sieve  with  a  lamp  behind  it ;  that  she  was  never 
seen  except  at  night,  and  when  something  terrible  had 
taken  place,  or  was  going  to  take  place — such  as  the 
falling  in  of  the  roof  of  a  mine,  or  the  breaking  out  of 
water  in  it.  She  had  more  than  once  been  seen — it  was 
always  at  night — beside  some  well,  sitting  on  the  brink 
of  it,  and  leaning  over  and  stirring  it  with  her  forefinger, 
which  was  six  times  as  long  as  any  of  the  rest.  And 
whoever  for  months  after  drank  of  that  well  was  sure  to 
be  ill.  To  this  one  of  them,  however,  added  that  he 
remembered  his  mother  saying  that  whoever  in  bad 
health  drank  of  the  well  was  sure  to  get  better.  But  the 
majority  agreed  that  the  former  was  the  right  version  of 
the  story — for  was  she  not  a  witch,  an  old  hating  witch, 
whose  delight  was  to  do  mischief?  One  said  he  had 
heard  that  she  took  the  shape  of  a  young  woman  some- 
times, as  beautiful  as  an  angel,  and  then  was  most 
dangerous  of  all,  for  she  struck  every  man  who  looked 
upon  her  stone-blind.  Peter  ventured  the  question 


THE  MINERS.  41 

whether  she  might  not  as  likely  be  an  angel  that  took  the 
form  of  an  old  woman,  as  an  old  woman  that  took  the  form 
of  an  angel  But  nobody  except  Curdie,  who  was  holding 
his  peace  with  all  his  might,  saw  any  sense  in  the  question. 
They  said  an  old  woman  might  be  very  glad  to  make 
herself  look  like  a  young  one,  but  who  ever  heard  of  a 
young  and  beautiful  one  making  herself  look  old  and 
ugly  ?  Peter  asked  why  they  were  so  much  more  ready 
to  believe  the  bad  that  was  said  of  her  than  the  good. 
They  answered  because  she  was  bad.  He  asked  why 
they  believed  her  to  be  bad,  and  they  answered,  because 
she  did  bad  things.  When  he  asked  how  they  knew 
that,  they  said,  because  she  was  a  bad  creature.  Even  if 
they  didn't  know  it,  they  said,  a  woman  like  that  was  so 
much  more  likely  to  be  bad  than  good.  Why  did  she 
go  about  at  night  ?  Why  did  she  appear  only  now  and 
then,  and  on  such  occasions  ?  One  went  on  to  tell  how 
one  night  when  his  grandfather  had  been  having  a  jolly 
time  of  it  with  his  friends  in  the  market  town,  she  had 
served  him  so  upon  his  way  home  that  the  poor  man 
never  drank  a  drop  of  anything  stronger  than  water  after  it 
to  the  day  of  his  death.  She  dragged  him  into  a  bog,  and 
tumbled  him  up  and  down  in  it  till  he  was  nearly  dead. 

"  I  suppose  that  was  her  way  of  teaching  him  what 
a  good  thing  water  was,"  said  Peter ;  but  the  man,  who 
liked  strong  drink,  did  not  see  the  joke. 


42  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  They  do  say,"  said  another,  "  that  she  has  lived  in 
the  old  house  over  there  ever  since  the  little  princess  left 
it.  They  say  too  that  the  housekeeper  knows  all  about 
it,  and  is  hand  and  glove  with  the  old  witch,  I  don't 
doubt  they  have  many  a  nice  airing  together  on  broom- 
sticks. But  I  don't  doubt  either  it's  all  nonsense,  and 
there's  no  such  person  at  all." 

"When  our  cow  died,"  said  another,  "she  was  seen 
going  round  and  round  the  cowhouse  the  same  night. 
To  be  sure  she  left  a  fine  calf  behind  her — I  mean 
the  cow  did,  not  the  witch.  I  wonder  she  didn't 
kill  that  too,  for  she'll  be  a  far  finer  cow  than  ever 
her  mother  was." 

"  My  old  woman  came  upon  her  one  night,  not  long 
before  the  water  broke  out  in  the  mine,  sitting  on  a  stone 
on  the  hill-side  with  a  whole  congregation  of  cobs  about 
her.  When  they  saw  my  wife  they  all  scampered  off  as 
fast  as  they  could  run,  and  where  the  witch  was  sitting 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  withered  bracken 
bush.  I  make  no  doubt  myself  she  was  putting  them  up 
to  it." 

And  so  they  went  on  with  one  foolish  tale  after 
another,  while  Peter  put  in  a  word  now  and  then,  and 
Curdie  diligently  held  his  peace.  But  his  silence  at  last 
drew  attention  upon  it,  and  one  of  them  said, — 

"  Come,  young  Curdie,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 


THE  MINERS.  43 

"  How  do  you  know  I'm  thinking  of  anything  ?  "  asked 
Curdie. 

"  Because  you're  not  saying  anything." 

"  Does  it  follow  then  that,  as  you  are  saying  so  much, 
you're  not  thinking  at  all  ?  "  said  Curdie. 

"  I  know  what  he's  thinking,"  said  one  who  had 
not  yet  spoken;  " — he's  thinking  what  a  set  of  fools 
you  are  to  talk  such  rubbish ;  as  if  ever  there  was  or 
could  be  such  an  old  woman  as  you  say !  I'm  sure 
Curdie  knows  better  than  all  that  comes  to." 

"  I  think,"  said  Curdie,  "  it  would  be  better  that  he 
who  says  anything  about  her  should  be  quite  sure  it 
is  true,  lest  she  should  hear  him,  and  not  like  to  be 
slandered." 

"  But  would  she  like  it  any  better  if  it  were  true  ?  " 
said  the  same  man.  "  If  she  is  what  they  say — I 
don't  know — but  I  never  knew'  a  man  that  wouldn't 
go  in  a  rage  to  be  called  the  very  thing  he  was." 

"  If  bad  things  were  true  of  her,  and  I  knew  it,"  said 
Curdie,  "I  would  not  hesitate  to  say  them,  for  I  will 
never  give  in  to  being  afraid  of  anything  that's  bad.  I 
suspect  that  the  things  they  tell,  however,  if  we  knew  all 
about  them,  would  turn  out  to  have  nothing  but  good  in 
them  ;  and  I  won't  say  a  word  more  for  fear  I  should  say 
something  that  mightn't  be  to  her  mind." 

They  all  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 


44  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  Hear  the  parson  !  *  they  cried.  "  He  believes  in  the 
witch  !  Ha  !  ha  ! " 

"He's  afraid  of  her!" 

"  And  says  all  she  does  is  good  ! " 

"  He  wants  to  make  friends  with  her,  that  she  may  help 
him  to  find  the  gangue." 

"  Give  me  my  own  eyes  and  a  good  divining  rod  before 
all  the  witches  in  the  world  !  and  so  I'd  advise  you  too, 
Master  Curdie ;  that  is,  when  your  eyes  have  grown  to  be 
worth  anything,  and  you  have  learned  to  cut  the  hazel  fork." 

Thus  they  all  mocked  and  jeered  at  him,  but  he  did 
his  best  to  keep  his  temper  and  go  quietly  on  with  his 
work.  He  got  as  close  to  his  father  as  he  could,  how- 
ever, for  that  helped  him  to  bear  it.  As  soon  as  they 
were  tired  of  laughing  and  mocking,  Curdie  was  friendly 
with  them,  and  long  before  their  midday  meal  all  be- 
tween them  was  as  it  had  been. 

But  when  the  evening  came,  Peter  and  Curdie  felt  that 
they  would  rather  walk  home  together  without  other 
company,  and  therefore  lingered  behind  when  the  rest  of 
the  men  left  the  mine. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE       EMERALD. 

ATHER  and  son  had  seated  themselves 
on  a  projecting  piece  of  the  rock  at  a 
corner  where  three  galleries  met — the  one 
they  had  come  along  from  their  work,  one 
to  the  right  leading  out  of  the  mountain,  and  the 
other  to  the  left  leading  far  into  a  portion  of  it 
which  had  been  long  disused.  Since  the  inundation 
caused  by  the  goblins,  it  had  indeed  been  rendered  im- 
passable by  the  settlement  of  a  quantity  of  the  water, 
forming  a  small  but  very  deep  lake,  in  a  part  where  was 
a  considerable  descent.  They  had  just  risen  and  were 
turning  to  the  right,  when  a  gleam  caught  their  eyes,  and 
made  them  look  along  the  whole  gangue.  Far  up  they 
saw  a  pale  green  light,  whence  issuing  they  could  not 
tell,  about  halfway  between  floor  and  roof  of  the  passage. 
They  saw  nothing  but  the  light,  which  was  like  a  large 
star,  with  a  point  of  darker  colour  yet  brighter  radiance 


46  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

in  the  heart  of  it,  whence  the  rest  of  the  light  shot  out  in 
rays  that  faded  towards  the  ends  until  they  vanished.  It 
shed  hardly  any  light  around  it,  although  in  itself  it  was 
so  bright  as  to  sting  the  eyes  that  beheld  it.  Wonderful 
stories  had  from  ages  gone  been  current  in  the  mines 
about  certain  magic  gems  which  gave  out  light  of  them- 
selves, and  this  light  looked  just  like  what  might  be  sup- 
posed to  shoot  from  the  heart  of  such  a  gem.  They 
went  up  the  old  gallery  to  find  out  what  it  could  be. 

To  their  surprise  they  found,  however,  that,  after 
going  some  distance,  they  were  no  nearer  to  it,  so  far  as 
they  could  judge,  than  when  they  started.  It  did 
not  seem  to  move,  and  yet  they  moving  did  not 
approach  it.  Still  they  persevered,  for  it  was  far  too 
wonderful  a  thing  to  lose  sight  of  so  long  as  they  could 
keep  it  At  length  they  drew  near  the  hollow  where  the 
water  lay,  and  still  were  no  nearer  the  light.  Where 
they  expected  to  be  stopped  by  the  water,  however,  water 
was  none :  something  had  taken  place  in  some  part  of 
the  mine  that  had  drained  it  off,  and  the  gallery  lay  open 
as  in  former  times.  And  now,  to  their  surprise,  the  light, 
instead  of  being  in  front  of  them,  was  shining  at  the  same 
distance  to  the  right,  where  they  did  not  know  there  was 
any  passage  at  all  Then  they  discovered,  by  the  light 
of  the  lanterns  they  carried,  that  there  the  water  had 
broken  through,  and  made  an  adit  to  a  part  of  the  moun- 


THE  EMERALD.  .  47 

tain  of  which  Peter  knew  nothing.  But  they  were  hardly 
well  into  it,  still  following  the  light,  before  Curdie 
thought  he  recognised  some  of  the  passages  he  had  so 
often  gone  through  when  he  was  watching  the  goblins. 
After  they  had  advanced  a  long  way,  with  many  turnings, 
now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left,  all  at  once  their  eyes 
seemed  to  come  suddenly  to  themselves,  and  they  became 
aware  that  the  light  which  they  had  taken  to  be  a  great 
way  from  them  was  in  reality  almost  within  reach  of  their 
hands.  The  same  instant  it  began  to  grow  larger  and 
thinner,  the  point  of  light  grew  dim  as  it  spread,  the 
greenness  melted  away,  and  in  a  moment  or  two,  instead 
of  the  star,  a  dark,  dark  and  yet  luminous  face  was  look- 
ing at  them  with  living  eyes.  And  Curdie  felt  a  great 
awe  swell  up  in  his  heart,  for  he  thought  he  had  seen 
those  eyes  before. 

"  I  see  you  know  me,  Curdie,"  said  a  voice. 

"If  your  eyes  are  you,  ma'am,  then  I  know  you,"  said 
Curdie.  "  But  I  never  saw  your  face  before. ". 

"Yes,  you  have  seen  it,  Curdie,"  said  the  voice. 

And  with  that  the  darkness  of  its  complexion  melted 
away,  and  down  from  the  face  dawned  out  the  form  that 
belonged  to  it,  until  at  last  Curdie  and  his  father  beheld 
a  lady,  "beautiful  exceedingly,"  dressed  in  something  pale 
green,  like  velvet,  over  which  her  hair  fell  in  cataracts  of 
a  rich  golden  colour.  It  looked  as  if  it  were  pouring 


48  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

down  from  her  head,  and,  like  the  water  of  the  Dust- 
brook,  vanishing  in  a  golden  vapour  ere  it  reached  the 
floor.  It  came  flowing  from  under  the  edge  of  a  coronet 
of  gold,  set  with  alternated  pearls  and  emeralds.  In 
front  of  the  crown  was  a  great  emerald,  which  looked 
somehow  as  if  out  of  it  had  come  the  light  they  had 
followed.  There  was  no  ornament  else  about  her,  except 
on  her  slippers,  which  were  one  mass  of  gleaming  emeralds, 
of  various  shades  of  green,  all  mingling  lovelily  like  the 
waving  of  grass  in  the  wind  and  sun.  She  looked  about 
five-and-twenty  years  old.  And  for  all  the  difference, 
Curdie  knew  somehow  or  other,  he  could  not  have  told 
how,  that  the  face  before  him  was  that  of  the  old  princess, 
Irene's  great-great-grandmother. 

By  this  time  all  around  them  had  grown  light,  and 
now  first  they  could  see  where  they  were.  They  stood 
in  a  great  splendid  cavern,  which  Curdie  recognised  as 
that  in  which  the  goblins  held  their  state  assemblies. 
But,  strange  to  tell,  the  light  by  which  they  saw  came 
streaming,  sparkling,  and  shooting  from  stones  of  many 
colours  in  the  sides  and  roof  and  floor  of  the  cavern — 
stones  of  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow,  and  many  more. 
It  was  a  glorious  sight — the  whole  rugged  place  flashing 
with  colours — in  one  spot  a  great  light  of  deep  carbun- 
cular  red,  in  another  of  sapphirine  blue,  in  another  of 
topaz-yellow ;  while  here  and  there  were  groups  of  stones 


THE  EMERALD.  49 

of  all  hues  and  sizes,  and  again  nebulous  spaces  of  thou- 
sands of  tiniest  spots  of  brilliancy  of  every  conceivable 
shade.  Sometimes  the  colours  ran  together,  and  made  a 
little  river  or  lake  of  lambent  interfusing  and  changing 
tints,  which,  by  their  variegation,  seemed  to  imitate  the 
flowing  of  water,  or  waves  made  by  the  wind.  Curdie 
would  have  gazed  entranced,  but  that  all  the  beauty  of 
the  cavern,  yes,  of  all  he  knew  of  the  whole  creation, 
seemed  gathered  in  one  centre  of  harmony  and  loveliness 
in  'the  person  of  the  ancient  lady  who  stood  before  him 
in  the  very  summer  of  beauty  and  strength.  Turning 
from  the  first  glance  at  the  circumfulgent  splendour,  it 
dwindled  into  nothing  as  he  looked  again  at  the  lady. 
Nothing  flashed  or  glowed  or  shone  about  her,  and  yet 
it  was  with  a  prevision  of  the  truth  that  he  said, — 

"  I  was  here  once  before,  ma'am." 

"  I  know  that,  Curdie,"  she  replied. 

"  The  place  was  full  of  torches,  and  the  walls  gleamed, 
but  nothing  as  they  do  now,  and  there  is  no  light  in  the 
place." 

"  You  want  to  know  where  the  light  conies  from  ?  "  she 
said,  smiling. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Then  see :  I  will  go  out  of  the  cavern.  Do  not  be 
afraid,  but  watch." 

She  went  slowly  out.     The  moment  she  turned  her 


50  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

back  to  go,  the  light  began  to  pale  and  fade;  the 
moment  she  was  out  of  their  sight  the  place  was 
black  as  night,  save  that  now  the  smoky  yellow-red 
of  their  lamps,  which  they  thought  had  gone  out  long 
ago,  cast  a  dusky  glimmer  around  them. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHAT   fS   IN   A   NAME? 

a  time  that  seemed  to  them  long,  the 
two  men  stood  waiting,  while  still  the 
Mother  of  Light  did  not  return.  So  long 
was  she  absent  that  they  began  to  grow 
anxious  :  how  were  they  to  find  their  way  from  the 
natural  hollows  of  the  mountain  crossed  by  goblin 
paths,  if  their  lamps  should  go  out  ?  To  spend  the 
night  there  would  mean  to  sit  and  wait  until  an  earth, 
quake  rent  the  mountain,  or  the  earth  herself  fell  back 
into  the  smelting  furnace  of  the  sun  whence  she  had 
issued — for  it  was  all  night  and  no  faintest  dawn  in  the 
bosom  of  the  world.  So  long  did  they  wait  unrevisited, 
that,  had  there  not  been  two  of  them,  either  would  at 
length  have  concluded  the  vision  a  home-born  product  of 
his  own  seething  brain.  And  their  lamps  were  going  out, 
for  they  grew  redder  and  smokier  !  But  they  did  not  lose 
courage,  for  there  is  a  kind  of  capillary  attraction  in  the 


53  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDlE. 

facing  of  two  souls,  that  lifts  faith  quite  beyond  the  level 
to  which  either  could  raise  it  alone :  they  knew  that  they 
had  seen  the  lady  of  emeralds,  and  it  was  to  give  them 
their  own  desire  that  she  had  gone  from  them,  and 
neither  would  yield  for  a  moment  to  the  half-doubts  and 
half-dreads  that  awoke  "in  his  heart.  And  still  she  who 
with  her  absence  darkened  their  air  did  not  return.  They 
grew  weary,  and  sat  down  on  the  rocky  floor,  for  wait 
they  would — indeed,  wait  they  must.  Each  set  his  lamp 
by  his  knee,  and  watched  it  die.  Slowly  it  sank,  dulled, 
looked  lazy  and  stupid.  But  ever  as  it  sank  and  dulled, 
the  image  in  his  mind  of  the  Lady  of  Light  grew 
stronger  and  clearer.  Together  the  two  lamps  panted 
and  shuddered.  First  one,  then  the  other  went  out, 
leaving  for  a  moment  a  great  red,  evil-smelling  snuff. 
Then  all  was  the  blackness  of  darkness  up  to  their  very 
hearts  and  everywhere  around  them.  Was  it  ?  No.  Far 
away — it  looked  miles  away — shone  one  minute  faint 
point  of  green  light — where,  who  could  tell  ?  They 
only  knew  that  it  shone.  It  grew  larger,  and  seemed  to 
draw  nearer,  until  at  last,  as  they  watched  with  speechless 
delight  and  expectation,  it  seemed  once  more  within 
reach  of  an  outstretched  hand.  Then  it  spread  and 
melted  away  as  before,  and  there  were  eyes— and  a  face 
— and  a  lovely  form — and  lo  !  the  whole  cavern  blazing 
with  lights  innumerable,  and  gorgeous,  yet  soft  and  inter- 


WHAT  IS  IN  A  NAME?  53 

fused — so  blended,  indeed,  that  the  eye  had  to  search  and 
see  in  order  to  separate  distinct  spots  of  special  colour. 

The  moment  they  saw  the  speck  in  the  vast  distance 
they  had  risen  and  stood  on  their  feet.  When  it  came 
nearer  they  bowed  their  heads.  Yet  now  they  looked 
with  fearless  eyes,  for  the  woman  that  was  old  and  yet 
young  was  a  joy  to  see,  and  filled  their  hearts  with 
reverent  delight.  She  turned  first  to  Peter. 

"  I  have  known  you  long,"  she  said.  "  I  have  met  you 
going  to  and  from  the  mine,  and  seen  you  working  in  it 
for  the  last  forty  years." 

"How  should  it  be,  madam,  that  a  grand  lady  like 
you  should  take  notice  of  a  poor  man  like  me  ?"  said 
Peter,  humbly,  but  more  foolishly  than  he  could  then  have 
understood. 

"  I  am  poor  as  well  as  rich,"  said  she.  "  I  too  work 
for  my  bread,  and  I  show  myself  no  favour  when  I  pay 
myself  my  own  wages.  Last  night  when  you  sat  by  the 
brook,  and  Curdie  told  you  about  my  pigeon,  and  my 
spinning,  and  wondered  whether  he  could  believe  that 
he  had  actually  seen  me,  I  heard  all  you  said  to  each 
other.  I  am  always  about,  as  the  miners  said  the  other 
night  when  they  talked  of  me  as  Old  Mother  Wotherwop." 

The  lovely  lady  laughed,  and  her  laugh  was  a  lightning 
of  delight  in  their  souls. 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on,  "  you  have  got  to  thank  me  that 


54  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDlR. 

you  are  so  poor,  Peter.  I  have  seen  to  that,  and  it  has 
done  well  for  both  you  and  me,  my  friend.  Things  come 
to  the  poor  that  can't  get  in  at  the  door  of  the  rich. 
Their  money  somehow  blocks  it  up.  It  is  a  great 
privilege  to  be  poor,  Peter — one  that  no  man  ever 
coveted,  and  but  a  very  few  have  sought  to  retain, 
but  one  that  yet  many  have  learned  to  prize.  You  must 
not  mistake,  however,  and  imagine  it  a  virtue  ;  it  is  but 
a  privilege,  and  one  also  that,  like  other  privileges,  may 
be  terribly  misused.  Hadst  thou  been  rich,  my  Peter, 
thou  wouldst  not  have  been  so  good  as  some  rich  men  I 
know.  And  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  no  one 
knows  but  myself:  you,  Peter,  and  your  wife  have  both 
the  blood  of  the  royal  family  in  your  veins.  I  have  been 
trying  to  cultivate  your  family  tree,  every  branch  of  which 
is  known  to  me,  and  I  expect  Curdie  to  turn  out  a 
blossom  on  it.  Therefore  I  have  been  training  him  for 
a  work  that  must  soon  be  done.  I  was  near  losing  him, 
and  had  to  send  my  pigeon.  Had  he  not  shot  it,  that 
would  have  been  better ;  but  he  repented,  and  that  shall 
be  as  good  in  the  end." 

She  turned  to  Curdie  and  smiled. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Curdie,  "  may  I  ask  questions  ?  " 

"  Why  not,  Curdie  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  been  told,  ma'am,  that  nobody  must 
ask  the  king  questions." 


WHAT  IS  IN  A  NAME?  55 

"The  king  never  made  that  law,"  she  answered, 
with  some  displeasure.  "You  may  ask  me  as  many 
as  you  please — that  is,  so  long  as  they  are  sensible. 
Only  I  may  take  a  few  thousand  years  to  answer 
some  of  them.  But  that's  nothing.  Of  all  things  time 
is  the  cheapest." 

"  Then  would  you  mind  telling  me  now,  ma'am,  for  I 
feel  very  confused  about  it — are  you  the  Lady  of  the 
Silver  Moon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Curdie ;  you  may  call  me  that  if  you  like. 
What  it  means  is  true." 

"  And  now  I  see  you  dark,  and  clothed  in  green,  and 
the  mother  of  all  the  light  that  dwells  in  the  stones 
of  the  earth !  And  up  there  they  call  you  Old 
Mother  Wotherwop !  And  the  Princess  Irene  told 
me  you  were  her  great-great-grandmother !  And  you 
spin  the  spider-threads,  and  take  care  of  a  whole 
people  of  pigeons ;  and  you  are  worn  to  a  pale 
shadow  with  old  age;  and  are  as  young  as  anybody 
can  be,  not  to  be  too  young;  and  as  strong,  I  do 
believe,  as  I  am." 

The  lady  stooped  towards  a  large  green  stone  bedded 
in  the  rock  of  the  floor,  and  looking  like  a  well  of  grassy 
light  in  it.  She  laid  hold  of  it  with  her  fingers,  broke  it 
out,  and  gave  it  to  Peter. 

"There!"  cried  Curdie,   "I  told  you   so.     Twenty 


56  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

men  could  not  have  done  that  And  your  fingers  are 
white  and  smooth  as  any  lady's  in  the  land.  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  it." 

"  I  could  give  you  twenty  names  more  to  call  me, 
Curdie,  and  not  one  of  them  would  be  a  false  one.  What 
does  it  matter  how  many  names  if  the  person  is  one  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  but  it  is  not  names  only,  ma'am.  Look  at 
what  you  were  like  last  night,  and  what  I  see  you 
now ! " 

"  Shapes  are  only  dresses,  Curdie,  and  dresses  are  only 
names.  That  which  is  inside  is  the  same  all  the  time." 

"  But  then  how  can  all  the  shapes  speak  the  truth  ?  " 

"  It  would  want  thousands  more  to  speak  the  truth, 
Curdie  ;  and  then  they  could  not.  But  there  is  a  point 
I  must  not  let  you  mistake  about.  It  is  one  thing  the 
shape  I  choose  to  put  on,  and  quite  another  the  shape 
that  foolish  talk  and  nursery  tale  may  please  to  put  upon 
me.  Also,  it  is  one  thing  what  you  or  your  father  may 
think  about  me,  and  quite  another  what  a  foolish  or  bad 
man  may  see  in  me.  For  instance,  if  a  thief  were  to 
come  in  here  just  now,  he  would  think  he  saw  the  demon 
pf  the  mine,  all  in  green  flames,  come  to  protect  her 
treasure,  and  would  run  like  a  hunted  wild  goat  I 
should  be  all  the  same,  but  his  evil  eyes  would  see  me  as 
J  was  not" 

"  J  think.  I  understand,"  said  Curdie. 


57 

"  Peter,"  said  the  lady,  turning  then  to  him,  "  you  will 
"have  to  give  up  Curdie  for  a  little  while." 

"  So  long  as  he  loves  us,  ma'am,  that  will  not  matter — 
much." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  right  there,  my  friend,"  said  the  beauti- 
ful princess. 

And  as  sfae  said  it  she  put  out  her  hand,  and  took  the 
hard,  horny  hand  of  the  miner  in  it,  and  held  it  for  a 
moment  lovingly. 

"  I  need  say  no  more,"  she  added,  "for  we  understand 
each  other — you  and  I,  Peter." 

The  tears  came  into  Peter's  eyes.  He  bowed  his  head 
in  thankfulness,  and  his  heart  was  much  too  full  to 
speak. 

Then  the  great  old  young  beautiful  princess  turned  to 
Curdie. 

"  Now,  Curdie,  are  you  ready  ?  "  she  said. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Curdie. 

"**  You  do  not  know  what  for." 

• 

"You  do,  ma'am.    That  is  enough." 

"You  could  not  have  given  me  a  better  answer,  or 
done  more  to  prepare  yourself,  Curdie,"  she  returned, 
with  one  of  her  radiant  smiles.  "  Do  you  think  you  will 
know  me  again  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  But  how  can  I  tell  what  you  may  look 
like  next  ?  " 


58  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

"  Ah,  that  indeed  !  How  can  you  tell  ?  Or  how  could 
I  expect  you  should?  But  those  who  know  me  well, 
know  me  whatever  new  dress  or  shape  or  name  I  may  be 
in ;  and  by-and-by  you  will  have  learned  to  do  so  too." 

"  But  if  you  want  me  to  know  you  again,  ma'am,  for 
certain  sure,"  said  Curdie,  "could  you  not  give  me  some 
sign,  or  tell  me  something  about  you  that  ne'ver  changes 
—or  some  other  way  to  know  you,  or  thing  to  know 
you  by?" 

"No,  Curdie;  that  would  be  to  keep  you  from  know- 
ing me.  You  must  know  me  in  quite  another  way  from 
that.  It  would  not  be  the  least  use  to  you  or  me  either 
if  I  were  to  make  you  know  me  in  that  way.  It  would 
be  but  to  know  the  sign  of  me — not  to  know  me  myself. 
It  would  be  no  better  than  if  I  were  to  take  this  emerald 
out  of  my  crown  and  give  it  you  to  take  home  with  you, 
and  you  were  to  call  it  me,  and  talk  to  it  as  if  it  heard 
and  saw  and  loved  you.  Much  good  that  would  do  you, 
Curdie  !  No ;  you  must  do  what  you  cap  to  know  me, 
and  if  you  do,  you  will.  You  shall  see  me  again — in 
very  different  circumstances  from  these,  and,  I  will  tell 
you  so  much,  it  may  be  in  a  very  different  shape.  But 
come  now,  I  will  lead  you  out  of  this  cavern ;  my  good 
Joan  will  be  getting  too  anxious  about  you.  One  word 
more :  you  will  allow  that  the  men  knew  little  what  they 
were  talking  about  this  morning,  when  they  told  all  those 


WHAT  IS  IN  A  NAME  ?  59 

tales  of  Old  Mother  Wotherwop ;  but  did  it  occur  to  you 
to  think  how  it  was  they  fell  to  talking  about  me  at  all  ? — It 
was  because  I  came  to  them ;  I  was  beside  them  all  the 
time  they  were  talking  about  me,  tnough  they  were  far 
enough  from  knowing  it,  and  had  very  little  besides 
foolishness  to  say." 

As  she  spoke  she  turned  and  led  the  way  from  the 
cavern,  which,  as  if  a  door  had  been  closed,  sunk  into 
absolute  blackness  behind  them.  And  now  they  saw 
nothing  more  of  the  lady  except  the  green  star,  which 
again  seemed  a  good  distance  in  front  of  them,  and  to 
which  they  came  no  nearer,  although  following  it  at  a 
quick  pace  through  the  mountain.  -  Such  was  their  con- 
fidence in  her  guidance,  however,  and  so  fearless  were 
they  in  consequence,  that  they  felt  their  way  neither  with 
hand  nor  foot,  but  walked  straight  on  through  the  pitch 
dark  galleries.  When  at  length  the  night  of  the  upper 
world  looked  in  at  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  the  green 
light  seemed  to  lose  its  way  amongst  the  stars,  and  they 
saw  it  no  more. 

Out  they  came  into  the  cool,  blessed  night.  It  was 
very  late,  and  only  starlight.  To  their  surprise,  three 
paces  away  they  saw,  seated  upon  a  stone,  an  old 
countrywoman,  in  a  cloak  which  they  took  for  black. 
When  they  came  close  up  to  it,  they  saw  it  was  red. 

"  Good  evening  ! "  said  Peter. 


60  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

"Good  evening!"  returned  the  old  woman,  in  a 
voice  as  old  as  herself. 

But  Curdle  took  off  his  cap  and  said, — 

"  I  am  your  servant,  princess." 

The  old  woman  replied, — 

"Come  to  me  in  the  dove-tower  to-morrow  night, 
Curdle — alone." 

"  I  will,  ma'am,"  said  Curdie. 

So  they  parted,  and  father  and  son  went  home  to  wife 
and  mother — two  persons  in  one  rich,  happy  woman. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
CURDIE'S   MISSION. 

\  HE  next  night  Cnrdie  went  home  from  the 
mine  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  to  make 
himself  tidy  before  going  to  the  dove- 
tower.  The  princess  had  not  appointed 
an  exact  time  for  him  to  be  there;  he  would  go  as 
near  the  time  he  had  gone  first  as  he  could.  On 
his  way  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  he  met  his  father 
coming  up.  The  sun  was  then  down,  and  the  warm 
first  of  the  twilight  filled  the  evening.  He  came  rather 
wearily  up  the  hill :  the  road,  he  thought,  must  have 
grown  steeper  in  parts  since  he  was  Curdie's  age.  His 
back  was  to  the  light  of  the  sunset,  which  closed  him  all 
round  in  a  beautiful  setting,  and  Curdie  thought  what  a 
grand-looking  man  his  father  was,  even  when  he  was 
tired.  It  is  greed  and  laziness  and  selfishness,  not 
hunger  or  weariness  or  cold,  that  take  the  dignity  out  of 
a  man,  and  make  him  look  mean. 

6 


62  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  Ah,  Curdie  !  there  you  are  ! "  he  said,  seeing  his  son 
come  bounding  along  as  if  it  were  morning  with  him  and 
not  evening. 

"  You  look  tired,  father,"  said  Curdie. 

"  Yes,  my  boy.     I'm  not  so  young  as  you." 

"  Nor  so  old  as  the  princess,"  said  Curdie. 

"Tell  me  this,"  said  Peter:  "why  do  people  talk 
about  going  down  hill  when  they  begin  to  get  old? 
It  seems  to  me  that  then  first  they  begin  to  go 
up  hill." 

"You  looked  to  me,  father,  when  I  caught  sight  of 
you,  as  if  you  had  been  climbing  the  hill  all  your  life, 
and  were  soon  to  get  to  the  top." 

"  Nobody  can  tell  when  that  will  be,"  returned  Peter. 
"We're  so  ready  to  think  we're  just  at  the  top  when  it 
lies  miles  away.  But  I  must  not  keep  you,  my  boy,  for 
you  are  wanted ;  and  we  shall  be  anxious  to  know  what 
the  princess  says  to  you — that  is,  if  she  will  allow  you  to 
tell  us." 

"  I  think  she  will,  for  she  knows  there  is  nobody  more 
to  be  trusted  than  my  father  and  mother,"  said  Curdie, 
with  pride. 

And  away  he  shot,  and  ran,  and  jumped,  and  seemed 
almost  to  fly  down  the  long,  winding,  steep  path,  until 
he  came  to  the  gate  of  the  king's  house. 

There  he  met  an  unexpected  obstruction :  in  the  open 


CURDIE'S  MISSION.  63 

door  stood  the  housekeeper,  and  she  seemed  to  broaden 
herself  out  until  she  almost  filled  the  doorway. 

"  So  ! "  she  said  ;  "  it's  you,  is  it,  young  man  ?  You 
are  the  person  that  comes  in  and  goes  out  when  he 
pleases,  and  keeps  running  up  and  down  my  stairs,  with- 
out ever  saying  by  your  leave,  or  even  wiping  his  shoes, 
and  always  leaves  the  door  open  !  Don't  you  know  that 
this  is  my  house  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  returned  Curdie,  respectfully.  "  You 
forget,  ma'am,  that  it  is  the  king's  house." 

"  That  is  all  the  same.  The  king  left  it  to  me  to  take 
care  of,  and  that  you  shall  know  ! " 

"  Is  the  king  dead,  ma'am,  that  he  has  left  it  to  you  ?  " 
asked  Curdie,  half  in  doubt  from  the  self-assertion  of  the 
woman. 

"  Insolent  fellow !"  exclaimed  the  housekeeper.  "  Don't 
you  see  by  my  dress  that  I  am  in  the  king's  service  ?  " 

"  And  am  I  not  one  of  his  miners  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  that  goes  for  nothing.  I  am  one  of  his  house- 
hold. You  are  an  out-of-doors  labourer.  You  are  a 
nobody.  You  carry  a  pickaxe.  I  carry  the  keys  at  my 
girdle.  See ! " 

"  But  you  must  not  call  one  a  nobody  to  whom  the 
king  has  spoken,"  said  Curdie. 

"  Go  along  with  you ! "  cried  the  housekeeper,  and 
would  have  shut  the  door  in  his  face,  had  she  not  been 


*4  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CVRDIE. 

afraid  that  when  she  stepped  back  he  would  step  in  ere 
she  could  get  it  in  motion,  for  it  was  very  heavy,  and 
always  seemed  unwilling  to  shut.  Curdie  came  a  pace 
nearer.  She  lifted  the  great  house  key  from  her  side, 
and  threatened  to  strike  him  down  with  it,  calling  aloud 
on  Mar  and  Whelk  and  Plout,  the  men-servants  under 
her,  to  come  and  help  her.  Ere  one  of  them  could 
answer,  however,  she  gave  a  great  shriek  and  turned  and 
fled,  leaving  the  door  wide  open. 

Curdie  looked  behind  him,  and  saw  an  animal  whose 
gruesome  oddity  even  he,  who  knew  so  many  of  the 
strange  creatures,  two  of  which  were  never  the  same, 
that  used  to  live  inside  the  mountain  with  their  masters 
the  goblins,  had  never  seen  equalled.  Its  eyes  were 
flaming  with  anger,  but  it  seemed  to  be  at  the  house- 
keeper, for  it  came  cowering  and  creeping  up,  and  laid 
its  head  on  the  ground  at  Curdie's  feet.  Curdie  hardly 
waited  to  look  at  it,  however,  but  ran  into  the  house, 
eager  to  get  up  the  stairs  before  any  of  the  men  should 
come  to  annoy — he  had  no  fear  of  their  preventing  him. 
Without  halt  or  hindrance,  though  the  passages  were 
nearly  dark,  he  reached  the  door  of  the  princess's  work- 
room, and  knocked. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  voice  of  the  princess. 

Curdie  opened  the  door, — but,  to  his  astonishment, 
saw  no  room  there.  Could  he  have  opened  a  wrong 


CURDIES  MISSION.  65 

door  ?  There  was  the  great  sky,  and  the  stars,  and  be- 
neath he  could  see  nothing — only  darkness  !  But  what 
was  that  in  the  sky,  straight  in  front  of  him  ?  A  great  wheel 
of  fire,  turning  and  turning,  and  flashing  out  blue  lights  ! 

"  Come  in,  Curdie,"  said  the  voice  again. 

"  I  would  at  once,  ma'am,"  said  Curdie,  "  if  I  were 
sure  I  was  standing  at  your  door." 

"Why  should  you  doubt  it,  Curdie?" 

"  Because  I  see  neither  walls  nor  floor,  only  darkness 
and  the  great  sky." 

"  That  is  all  right,  Curdie.     Come  in." 

Curdie  stepped  forward  at  once.  He  was  indeed,  for 
the  very  crumb  of  a  moment,  tempted  to  feel  before  him 
with  his  foot ;  but  he  saw  that  would  be  to  distrust  the 
princess,  and  a  greater  rudeness  he  could  not  offer  her. 
So  he  stepped  straight  in — I  will  not  say  without  a  little 
tremble  at  the  thought  of  finding  no  floor  beneath  his 
foot.  But  that  which  had  need  of  the  floor  found  it,  and 
his  foot  was  satisfied. 

No  sooner  was  he  in  than  he  saw  that  the  great  re- 
volving wheel  in  the  sky  was  the  princess's  spinning- 
wheel,  near  the  other  end  of  the  room,  turning  very  fast. 
He  could  see  no  sky  or  stars  any  more,  but  the  wheel 
was  flashing  out  blue — oh  such  lovely  sky-blue  light ! — 
and  behind  it  of  course  sat  the  princess,  but  whether  an 
old  woman  as  thin  as  a  skeleton  leaf,  or  a  glorious  lady 


66  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

as  young  as  perfection,  he  could  not  tell  for  the  turning 
and  flashing  of  the  wheel.  , 

"Listen  to  the  wheel,"  said  the  voice  which  had 
already  grown  dear  to  Curdie :  its  very  tone  was  precious 
like  a  jewel,  not  as  a  jewel,  for  no  jewel  could  compare 
with  it  in  preciousness. 

And  Curdie  listened  and  listened. 

"  What  is  it  saying  ?  "  asked  the  voice. 

"  It  is  singing,"  answered  Curdie. 

"  What  is  it  singing  ?  " 

Curdie  tried  to  make  out,  but  thought  he  could  not  j 
for  no  sooner  had  he  got  a  hold  of  something  than  it 
vanished  again.  Yet  he  listened,  and  listened,  en- 
tranced with  delight. 

"  Thank  you,  Curdie,"  said  the  voice. 

u  Ma'am,"  said  Curdie,  "  I  did  try  hard  for  a  while, 
but  I  could  not  make  anything  of  it" 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  did,  and  you  have  been  telling  it  to  me ! 
Shall  I  tell  you  again  what  I  told  my  wheel,  and  my 
wheel  told  you,  and  you  have  just  told  me  without 
knowing  it  ?  " 

"  Please,  ma'am." 

Then  the  lady  began  to  sing,  and  her  wheel  spun  an 
accompaniment  to  her  song,  and  the  music  of  the  wheel 
was  like  the  music  of  an  ^Eolian  harp  blown  upon  by 
the  wind  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth.  Oh  !  the  sweet 


CURDIES  MISSION.  67 

sounds  of  that  spinning-wheel !  Now  they  were  gold, 
now  silver,  now  grass,  now  palm-trees,  now  ancient  cities, 
now  rubies,  now  mountain  brooks,  now  peacock's  feathers, 
now  clouds,  now  snowdrops,  and  now  mid-sea  islands. 
But  for  the  voice  that  sang  through  it  all,  about  that  I 
have  no  words  to  tell.  It  would  make  you  weep  if  I 
were  able  to  tell  you  what  that  was  like,  it  was  so  beauti- 
ful and  true  and  lovely.  But  this  is  something  like  the 
words  of  its  song : — 

The  stars  are  spinning  their  threads, 
And  the  clouds  are  the  dust  that  flies, 

And  the  suns  are  weaving  them  up 
For  the  time  when  the  sleepers  shall  rise. 

The  ocean  in  music  rolls, 

And  gems  are  turning  to  eyes, 
And  the  trees  are  gathering  souls 

For  the  time  when  the  sleepers  shall  rise. 

The  weepers  are  learning  to  smile, 

And  laughter  to  glean  the  sighs ; 
Burn  and  bury  the  care  and  guile, 

For  the  day  when  the  sleepers  shall  rise. 

Oh,  the  dews  and  the  moths  and  the  daisy-red, 
The  larks  and  the  glimmers  and  flows  I 

The  lilies  and  sparrows  and  daily  bread, 
And  the  something  that  nobody  knows ! 

The  princess   stopped,   her  wheel  stopped,  and  she 


63  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

laughed.  And  her  laugh  was  sweeter  than  song  and 
wheel;  sweeter  than  running  brook  and  silver  bell; 
sweeter  than  joy  itself,  for  the  heart  of  the  laugh  was 
love. 

"  Come  now,  Curdie,  to  this  side  of  my  wheel,  and 
you  will  find  me,"  she  said ;  and  her  laugh  seemed 
sounding  on  still  in  the  words,  as  if  they  were  made  of 
breath  that  had  laughed. 

Curdie  obeyed,  and  passed  the  wheel,  and  there  she 
stood  to  receive  him  ! — fairer  than  when  he  saw  her  last, 
a  httle  younger  still,  and  dressed  not  in  green  and 
emeralds,  but  in  pale  blue,  with  a  coronet  of  silver  set 
with  pearls,  and  slippers  covered  with  opals,  that 
gleamed  every  colour  of  the  rainbow.  It  was  some 
time  before  Curdie  could  take  his  eyes  from  the  marvel 
of  her  loveliness.  Fearing  at  last  that  he  was  rude,  he 
turned  them  away ;  and,  behold,  he  was  in  a  room  that 
was  for  beauty  marvellous !  The  lofty  ceiling  was  all 
a  golden  vine,  whose  great  clusters  of  carbuncles,  rubies, 
and  chrysoberyls,  hung  down  like  the  bosses  of  groined 
arches,  and  in  its  centre  hung  the  most  glorious  lamp 
that  human  eyes  ever  saw — the  Silver  Moon  itself,  a 
globe  of  silver,  as  it  seemed,  with  a  heart  of  light  so 
wondrous  potent  that  it  rendered  the  mass  translucent, 
and  altogether  radiant. 

The  room  was  so  large  that,  looking  back,  he  could 


CURDIES  MISSION.  69 

scarcely  see  the  end  at  which  he  entered;  but  the 
other  was  only  a  few  yards  from  him — and  there  he  saw 
another  wonder :  on  a  huge  hearth  a  great  fire  was 
burning,  and  the  fire  was  a  huge  heap  of  roses,  and  yet 
it  was  fire.  The  smell  of  the  roses  filled  the  air,  and  the 
heat  of  the  flames  of  them  glowed  upon  his  face.  He 
turned  an  inquiring  look  upon  the  lady,  and  saw  that 
she  was  now  seated  in  an  ancient  chair,  the  legs  of 
which  were  crusted  with  gems,  but  the  upper  part  like  a 
nest  of  daisies  and  moss  and  green  grass. 

"  Curdie,"  she  said  in  answer  to  his  eyes,  "  you  have 
stood  more  than  one  trial  already,  and  have  stood  them 
well :  now  I  am  going  to  put  you  to  a  harder.  Do  you 
think  you  are  prepared  for  it  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell,  ma'am  ?  "  he  returned,  "  seeing  I  do 
not  know  what  it  is,  or  what  preparation  it  needs  ?  Judge 
me  yourself,  ma'am." 

"It  needs  only  trust  and  obedience,"  answered  the 
lady." 

"  I  dare  not  say  anything,  ma'am.  If  you  think  me 
fit,  command  me." 

"  It  will  hurt  you  terribly,  Curdie,  but  that  will  be  all ; 
no  real  hurt,  but  much  real  good  will  come  to  you  from 
it" 

Curdie  made  no  answer,  but  stood  gazing  with  parted 
lips  in  the  lady's  face. 


70  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

'  Go  and  thrust  both  your  hands  into  that  fire,"  she 
said  quickly,  almost  hurriedly. 

Curdie  dared  not  stop  to  think.  It  was  much  too 
terrible  to  think  about  He  rushed  to  the  fire,  and 
thrust  both  his  hands  right  into  the  middle  of  the  heap  of 
flaming  roses,  and  his  arms  halfway  up  to  the  elbows. 
And  it  did  hurt !  But  he  did  not  draw  them  back.  He 
held  the  pain  as  if  it  were  a  thing  that  would  kill  him  if 
he  let  it  go — as  indeed  it  would  have  done.  He  was  in 
terrible  fear  lest  it  should  conquer  him.  But  when  it 
had  risen  to  the  pitch  that  he  thought  he  could  bear  it  no 
longer,  it  began  to  fall  again,  and  went  on  growing  less 
and  less  until  by  contrast  with  its  former  severity  it  had 
become  rather  pleasant.  At  last  it  ceased  altogether, 
and  Curdie  thought  his  hands  must  be  burnt  to  cinders  if 
not  ashes,  for  he  did  not  feel  them  at  all.  The  princess 
told  him  to  take  them  out  and  look  at  them.  He  did  so, 
and  found  that  all  that  was  gone  of  them  was  the  rough 
hard  skin ;  they  were  white  and  smooth  like  the  princess's. 

1  Come  to  me,"  she  said. 

He  obeyed,  and  saw,  to  his  surprise,  that  her  face 
looked  as  if  she  had  been  weeping. 

"  Oh,  princess  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Did 
I  make  a  noise  and  vex  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Curdie,"  she  answered ;  "  but  it  was  very  bad." 
'  Did  you  feel  it  too  then  ?  " 


CUR  DIE'S  MISSION.  71 

"  Of  course  I  did  But  now  it  is  over,  and  all  is  well. 
— Would  you  like  to  know  why  I  made  you  put  your 
hands  in  the  fire  ?  " 

Curdie  looked  at  them  again — then  said, — 

"  To  take  the  marks  of  the  work  off  them,  and  make 
tnem  fit  for  the  king's  court,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  Curdie,"  answered  the  princess,  shaking  her  head, 
for  she  was  not  pleased  with  the  answer.  "  It  would  be  a 
poor  way  of  making  your  hands  fit  for  the  king's  court  to 
take  off  them  all  signs  of  his  service.  There  is  a  far 
greater  difference  on  them  than  that  Do  you  feel  none  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  You  will,  though,  by  and  by,  when  the  time  comes. 
But  perhaps  even  then  you  might  not  know  what  had 
been  given  you,  therefore  I  will  tell  you. — Have  you  ever 
heard  what  some  philosophers  say — that  men  were  all 
animals  once  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence.  But  there  is  another  thing 
that  is  of  the  greatest  consequence — this :  that  all  men, 
if  they  do  not  take  care,  go  down  the  hill  to  the  animals' 
country ;  that  many  men  are  actually,  all  their  lives, 
going  to  be  beasts.  People  knew  it  once,  but  it  is  long 
since  they  forgot  it." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  it,  ma'am,  when  I  think  of 
some  of  our  miners." 


72  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"Ah !  but  you  must  beware,  Curdle,  how  you  say  of  this 
man  or  that  man  that  he  is  travelling  beastward.  There 
are  not  nearly  so  many  going  that  way  as  at  first  sight  you 
might  think.  When  you  met  your  father  on  the  hill  to- 
night, you  stood  and  spoke  together  on  the  same  spot ; 
and  although  one  of  you  was  going  up  and  the  other 
coming  down,  at  a  little  distance  no  one  could  have  told 
which  was  bound  in  the  one  direction  and  which  in  the 
other.  Just  so  two  people  may  be  at  the  same  spot 
in  manners  and  behaviour,  and  yet  one  may  be  getting 
better  and  the  other  worse,  which  is  just  the  greatest  of 
all  differences  that  could  possibly  exist  between  them." 

"But,  ma'am,"  said  Curdie,  "where  is  the  good  of 
knowing  that  there  is  such  a  difference,  if  you  can  never 
know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"  Now,  Curdie,  you  must  mind  exactly  what  words  I 
use,  because  although  the  right  words  cannot  do  exactly 
what  I  want  them  to  do,  the  wrong  words  will  certainly 
do  what  I  do  not  want  them  to  do.  I  did  not  say  you 
fan  never  know.  When  there  is  a  necessity  for  your 
knowing,  when  you  have  to  do  important  business  with 
this  or  that  man,  there  is  always  a  way  of  knowing  enough 
to  keep  you  from  any  great  blunder.  And  as  you  will 
have  important  business  to  do  by  and  by,  and  that  with 
people  of  whom  you  yet  know  nothing,  it  will  be  necessary 
that  you  should  have  some  better  means  than  usual  of 


CVRDIES  MISSION.  73 

learning  the  nature  of  them.  Now  listen.  Since  it  is 
always  what  they  do,  whether  in  their  minds  or  their 
bodies,  that  makes  men  go  down  to  be  less  than  men, 
that  is,  beasts,  the  change  always  comes  first  in  their 
hands — and  first  of  all  in  the  inside  hands,  to  which 
the  outside  ones  are  but  as  the  gloves.  They  do  not 
know  it  of  course ;  for  a  beast  does  not  know  that  he  is 
a  beast,  and  the  nearer  a  man  gets  to  being  a  beast  the 
less  he  knows  it.  Neither  can  their  best  friends,  or  their 
worst  enemies  indeed,  see  any  difference  in  their  hands, 
for  they  see  only  the  living  gloves  of  them.  But  there 
are  not  a  few  who  feel  a  vague  something  repulsive  in  the 
hand  of  a  man  who  is  growing  a  beast.  Now  here  is 
what  the  rose-fire  has  done  for  you :  it  has  made  your 
hands  so  knowing  and  wise,  it  has  brought  your  real 
hands  so  near  the  outside  of  your  flesh-gloves,  that  you 
will  henceforth  be  able  to  know  at  once  the  hand  of  a 
man  who  is  growing  into  a  beast ;  nay,  more — you  will 
at  once  feel  the  foot  of  the  beast  he  is  growing,  just  as 
if  there  were  no  glove  made  like  a  man's  hand  between 
you  and  it.  Hence  of  course  it  follows  that  you  will  be 
able  often,  and  with  further  education  in  zoology,  will 
be  able  always  to  tell,  not  only  when  a  man  is  growing  a 
beast,  but  what  beast  he  is  growing  to,  for  you  will  know 
the  foot — what  it  is  and  what  beast's  it  is.  According 

then  to  your  knowledge  of  that  beast,  will  be  your  know- 

7 


74  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

ledge  of  the  man  you  have  to  do  with.  Only  there  is 
one  beautiful  and  awful  thing  about  it,  that  if  any  one 
gifted  with  this  perception  once  uses  it  for  his  own  ends, 
it  is  taken  from  him,  and  then,  not  knowing  that  it  is 
gone,  he  is  in  a  far  worse  condition  than  before,  for  he 
trusts  to  what  he  has  not  got." 

"  How  dreadful !  "  said  Curdie.  "  I  must  mind  what 
I  am  about." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Curdle." 

"  But  may  not  one  sometimes  make  a  mistake  without 
being  able  to  help  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  so  long  as  he  is  not  after  his  own  ends,  he 
will  never  make  a  serious  mistake." 

"  I  suppose  you  want  me,  ma'am,  to  warn  every  one 
whose  hand  tells  me  that  he  is  growing  a  beast — because, 
as  you  say,  he  does  not  know  it  himself." 

The  princess  smiled. 

"  Much  good  that  would  do,  Curdie  !  I  don't  say  there 
are  no  cases  in  which  it  would  be  of 'use,  but  they  are 
very  rare  and  peculiar  cases,  and  if  such  come*  you  will 
know  them.  To  such  a  person  there  is  in  general  no 
insult  like  the  truth.  He  cannot  endure  it,  not  because 
he  is  growing  a  beast,  but  because  he  is  ceasing  to  be  a 
man.  It  is  the  dying  man  in  him  that  it  makes  uncom- 
fortable, and  he  trots,  or  creeps,  or  swims,  or  flutters  out 
of  its  way — calls  it  a  foolish  feeling,  a  whim,  an  old 


CURDI&S  MISSION.  75 

wives'  fable,  a  bit  of  priests'  humbug,  an  effete  supersti- 
tion, and  so  on." 

"And  is  there  no  hope  for  him?  Can  nothing  be 
done  ?  It's  so  awful  to  think  of  going  down,  down,  down 
like  that!" 

"  Even  when  it  is  with  his  own  will  ?  " 

"  That's  what  seems  to  me  to  make  it  worst  of  all," 
said  Curdie. 

"  You  are  right,"  answered  the  princess,  nodding  her 
head ;  "  but  there  is  this  amount  of  excuse  to  make  for 
all  such,  remember — that  they  do  not  know  what  or  how 
horrid  their  coming  fate  is.  Many  a  lady,  so  delicate  and 
nice  that  she  can  bear  nothing  coarser  than  the  finest 
linen  to  touch  her  body,  if  she  had  a  mirror  that  could 
show  her  the  animal  she  is  growing  to,  as  it  lies  waiting 
within  the  fair  skin  and  the  fine  linen  and  the  silk  and 
the  jewels,  would  receive  a  shock  that  might  possibly 
wake  her  up." 

"  Why  then,  ma'am,  shouldn't  she  have  it  ?  " 

The  princess  held  her  peace. 

"  Come  here,  Lina,"  she  said  after  a  long  pause. 

From  somewhere  behind  Curdie,  crept  forward  the 
same  hideous  -animal  which  had  fawned  at  his  feet  at  the 
door,  and  which,  without  his  knowing  it,  had  followed 
him  every  step  up  the  dove-tower.  She  ran  to  the 
princess,  and  lay  down  at  her  feet,  looking  up  at  her  with 


76  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

an  expression  so  pitiful  that  in  Curdie's  heart  it  overcame 
all  the  ludicrousness  of  her  horrible  mass  of  incongruities. 
She  had  a  very  short  body,  and  very  long  legs  made 
like  an  elephant's,  so  that  in  lying  down  she  kneeled 
with  both  pairs.  Her  tail,  which  dragged  on  the  floor 
behind  her,  was  twice  as  long  and  quite  as  thick  as  her 
body.  Her  head  was  something  between  that  of  a  polar 
bear  and  a  snake.  Her  eyes  were  dark  green,  with  a 
yellow  light  in  them.  Her  under  teeth  came  up  like  a 
fringe  of  icicles,  only  very  white,  outside  of  her  upper  lip. 
Her  throat  looked  as  if  the  hair  had  been  plucked  off 
It  showed  a  skin  white  and  smooth. 

"  Give  Curdie  a  paw,  Lina,"  said  the  princess. 

The  creature  rose,  and,  lifting  a  long  fore  leg,  held  up 
a  great  dog-like  paw  to  Curdie.  He  took  it  gently. 
But  what  a  shudder,  as  of  terrified  delight,  ran  through 
him,  when,  instead  of  the  paw  of  a  dog,  such  as  it  seemed 
to  his  eyes,  he  clasped  in  his  great  mining  fist  the  soft, 
neat  little  hand  of  a  child  !  He  took  it  in  both  of  his, 
and  held  it  as  if  he  could  not  let  it  go.  The  green  eyes 
stared  at  him  with  their  yellow  light,  and  the  mouth  was 
turned  up  towards -him  with  its  constant  half-grin ;  but 
here  was  the  child's  hand !  If  he  could  but  pull  the 
child  out  of  the  beast !  His  eyes  sought  the  princess. 
She  was  watching  him  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"  Ma'am,  here  is  a  child's  hand  !  "  said  Curdie. 


CURDIE'S  MISSION.  77 

"  Your  gift  does  more  for  you  than  it  promised.     It  is 
yet  better  to  perceive  a  hidden  good  than  a  hidden  evil" 
"  But,"  began  Curdie. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  answer  any  more  questions  this 
evening,"  interrupted  the  princess.  "  You  have  not  half 
got  to  the  bottom  of  the  answers  I  have  already  given 
you.  That  paw  in  your  hand  now  might  almost  teach 
you  the  whole  science  of  natural  history — the  heavenly 
sort,  I  mean." 

"  I  will  think,"  said  Curdie.  "  But  oh  !  please  !  one 
word  more  :  may  I  tell  my  father  and  mother  all  about 
it?" 

"  Certainly — though  perhaps  now  it  may  be  their  turn 
to  find  it  a  little  difficult  to  believe  that  things  went  just 
as  you  must  tell  them." 

"  They  shall  see  that  I  believe  it  all  this  time,"  said 
Curdie. 

"  Tell  them  that  to-morrow  morning  you  must  set  out 
for  the  court — not  like  a  great  man,  but  just  as  poor  as 
you  are.  They  had  better  not  speak  about  it.  Tell  them 
also  that  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  they  hear  of  you 
again,  but  they  must  not  lose  heart.  And  tell  your 
father  to  lay  that  stone  I  gave  him  last  night  in  a  safe 
place — not  because  of  the  greatness  of  its  price,  although 
it  is  such  an  emerald  as  no  prince  has  in  his  crown,  but 
because  it  will  be  a  news-bearer  between  you  and  him. 


78  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

As  often  as  he  gets  at  all  anxious  about  you,  he  must 
take  it  and  lay  it  in  the  fire,  and  leave  it  there  when 
he  goes  to  bed.  In  the  morning  he  must  find  it  in  the 
ashes,  and  if  it  be  as  green  as  ever,  then  all  goes  well 
with  you  ;  if  it  have  lost  colour,  things  go  ill  with  you ; 
but  if  it  be  very  pale  indeed,  then  you  are  in  great 
danger,  and  he  must  come  to  me." 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Curdie.  "Please,  am  I  to  go 
now?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  princess,  and  held  out  her  hand 
to  him. 

Curdie  took  it,  trembling  with  joy.  It  was  a  very 
beautiful  hand — not  small,  very  smooth,  but  not  very 
soft — and  just  the  same  to  his  fire-taught  touch  that  k 
was  to  his  eyes.  He  would  have  stood  there  all  night 
holding  it  if  she  had  not  gently  withdrawn  it. 

"I  will  provide  you  a  servant,"  she  said,  "for  your 
journey,  and  to  wait  upon  you  afterwards." 

"  But  where  am  I  to  go,  ma'am,  and  what  am  I  to  do  ? 
You  have  given  me  no  message  to  carry,  neither  have  you 
said  what  I  am  wanted  for.  I  go  without  a  notion 
whether  I  am  to  walk  this  way  or  that,  or  what  I  am  to 
do  when  I  get  I  don't  know  where." 

"  Curdie  ! "  said  the  princess,  and  there  was  a  tone  of 
reminder  in  his  own  name  as  she  spoke  it,  "  did  I  not 
tell  you  to  tell  your  father  and  mother  that  you  were  to 


CURDI&S  MISSION.  79 

set  out  for  the  court  ?  and  you  know  that  lies  to  the  north. 
You  must  learn  to  use  far  less  direct  directions  than 
'that.  You  must  not  be  like  a  dull  servant  that  needs  to 
be  told  again  and  again  before  he  will  understand.  You 
have  orders  enough  to  start  with,  and  you  will  find,  as  you 
go  on,  and  as  you  need  to  know,  what  you  have  to  do. 
But  I  warn  you  that  perhaps  it  will  not  look  the  least  like 
what  you  may  have  been  fancying  I  should  require  of 
you.  I  have  one  idea  of  you  and  your  work,  and  you 
have  another.  I  do  not  blame  you  for  that — you 
cannot  help  it  yet ;  but  you  must  be  ready  to  let  my 
idea,  which  sets  you  working,  set  your  idea  right.  Be  true 
and  honest  and  fearless,  and  all  shall  go  well  with  you 
and  your  work,  and  all  with  whom  your  work  lies,  and  so 
with  your  parents — and  me  too,  Curdie,"  she  added 
after  a  little  pause. 

The  young  miner  bowed  his  head  low,  patted  the 
strange  head  that  lay  at  the  princess's  feet,  and  turned  away. 

As  soon  as  he  passed  the  spinning-wheel,  which 
looked,  in  the  midst  of  the  glorious  room,  just  like  any 
wheel  you  might  find  in  a  country  cottage — old  and  worn 
and  dingy  and  dusty — the  splendour  of  the  place 
vanished,  and  he  saw  but  the  big  bare  room  he  seemed  at 
first  to  have  entered,  with  the  moon — the  princess's  moon 
no  doubt — shining  in  at  one  of  the  windows  upon  the 
spinning-wheel 


believe. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HANDS. 

[URDIE  went  home,  pondering  much,  and 
told  everything  to  his  father  and  mother. 
As  the  old  princess  had  said,  it  was  now 
their  turn  to  find  what  they  heard  hard  to 
If  they  had  not  been  able  to  trust  Curdie 
himself,  they  would  have  refused  to  believe  more  than 
the  half  of  what  he  reported,  then  they  would  have  re- 
fused that  half  too,  and  at  last  would  most  likely  for 
a  time  have  disbelieved  in  the  very  existence  of  the 
princess,  what  evidence  their  own  senses  had  given  them 
notwithstanding.  For  he  had  nothing  conclusive  to  show 
in  proof  of  what  he  told  them.  When  he  held  out  his 
hands  to  them,  his  mother  said  they  looked  as  if  he  had 
been  washing  them  with  soft  soap,  only  they  did  smell  o* 
something  nicer  than  that,  and  she  must  allow  it  was  more 
like  roses  than  anything  else  she  knew.  His  father  could 
not  see  any  difference  upon  his  hands,  but  then  it  was 


HANDS.  8l 

night,  he  said,  and  their  poor  little  lamp  was  not  enough 
for  his  old  eyes.  As  to  the  feel  of  them,  each  of  his  own 
hands,  he  said,  was  hard  and  horny  enough  for  two,  and 
it  must  be  the  fault  of  the  dulness  of  his  own  thick  skin 
that  he  felt  no  change  on  Curdie's  palms. 

"  Here,  Curdie,"  said  his  mother,  "  try  my  hand,  and 
see  what  beast's  paw  lies  inside  it." 

"  No,  mother,"  answered  Curdie,  half-beseeching,  half- 
indignant,  "I  will  not  insult  my  new  gift  by  making 
pretence  to  try  it.  That  would  be  mockery.  There  is 
no  hand  within  yours  but  the  hand  of  a  true  woman,  my 
mother." 

"  I  should  like  you  just  to  take  hold  of  my  hand, 
though,"  said  his  mother.  "  You  are  my  son,  and  may 
know  all  the  bad  there  is  in  me." 

Then  at  once  Curdie  took  her  hand  in  his.  And 
when  he  had  it,  he  kept  it,  stroking  it  gently  with  his 
other  hand. 

"  Mother,"  he  said  at  length,  "  your  hand  feels  just  like 
that  of  the  princess." 

"  What !  my  horny,  cracked,  rheumatic  old  hand,  with 
its  big  joints,  and  its  short  nails  all  worn  down  to  the  quick 
with  hard  work — like  the  hand  of  the  beautiful  princess  ! 
Why,  my  child,  you  will  make  me  fancy  your  fingers  have 
grown  very  dull  indeed,  instead  of  sharp  and  delicate,  i 
you  talk  such  nonsense.  Mine  is  such  an  ugly  hand  I 


82  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

should  be  ashamed  to  show  it  to  any  but  one  that 
loved  me.  But  love  makes  all  safe — doesn't  it, 
Curdle?" 

"Well,  mother,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  don't  feel  a 
roughness,  or  a  crack,  or  a  big  joint,  or  a  short  nail. 
Your  hand  feels  just  and  exactly,  as  near  as  I  can 
recollect,  and  it's  not  now  more  than  two  hours  since  I 
had  it  in  mine, — well,  I  will  say,  very  like  indeed  to  that 
of  the  old  princess." 

"Go  away,  you  flatterer, "said  his  mother,  with  a  smile 
that  showed  how  she  prized  the  love  that  lay  beneath 
what  she  took  for  its  hyperbole.  The  praise  even  which 
one  cannot  accept  is  sweet  from  a  true  mouth.  "  If  that 
is  all  your  new  gift  can  do,  it  won't  make  a  warlock  of 
you,"  she  added. 

"  Mother,  it  tells  me  nothing  but  the  truth,"  insisted 
Curdie,  "however  unlike  the  truth  it  may  seem.  It 
wants  no  gift  to  tell  what  anybody's  outside  hands  are 
like.  But  by  it  I  know  your  inside  hands  are  like  the 
princess's." 

"And  I  am  sure  the  boy  speaks  true,"  said  Peter. 
"  He  only  says  about  your  hand  what  I  have  known  ever 
so  long  about  yourself,  Joan.  Curdie,  your  mother's  foot 
is  as  pretty  a  foot  as  any  lady's  in  the  land,  and  where  her 
hand  is  not  so  pretty  it  comes  of  killing  its  beauty  for 
you  and  me,  my  boy.  And  I  can  tell  you  more,  Curdie. 


HANDS.  83 

I  don't  know  much  about  ladies  and  gentlemen,  but  I  am 
sure  your  inside  mother  must  be  a  lady,  as  her  hand  tells 
you,  and  I  will  try  to  say  how  I  know  it.  This  is  how : 
when  I  forget  myself  looking  at  her  as  she  goes  about  her 
work — and  that  happens  oftener  as  I  grow  older — I  fancy 
for  a  moment  or  two  that  I  am  a  gentleman  ;  and  when 
I  wake  up  from  my  little  dream,  it  is  only  to  feel  the 
more  strongly  that  I  must  do  everything  as  a  gentleman 
should.  I  will  try  to  tell  you  what  I  mean,  Curdie.  If 
a  gentleman — I  mean  a  real  gentleman,  not  a  pretended 
one,  of  which  sort  they  say  there  are  a  many  above 
ground — if  a  real  gentleman  were  to  lose  all  his  money 
and  come  down  to  work  in  the  mines  to  get  bread  for  his 
family — do  you  think,  Curdie,  he  would  -work  like  the 
lazy  ones  ?  Would  he  try  to  do  as  little  as  he  could  for 
his  wages  ?  I  know  the  sort  of  the  true  gentleman — 
pretty  near  as  well  as  he  does  himself.  And  my  wife, 
that's  your  mother,  Curdie,  she's  a  true  lady,  you  may 
take  my  word  for  it,  for  it's  she  that  makes  me  want  to  be 
a  true  gentleman.  Wife,  the  boy  is  in  the  right  about 
your  hand." 

"  Now,  father,  let  me  feel  yours,"  said  Curdie,  daring 
a  little  more. 

"  No,  no,  my  boy,"  answered  Peter.  "  I  don't  want  to 
hear  anything  about  my  hand  or  my  head  or  my  heart 
I  am  what  I  am,  and  I  hope  growing  better,  and  that's 


84  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

enough.  No,  you  shan't  feel  my  hand.  You  must  go  to 
bed,  for  you  must  start  with  the  sun." 

It  was  not  as  if  Curdie  had  been  leaving  them  to  go 
to  prison,  or  to  make  a  fortune,  and  although  they  were 
sorry  enough  to  lose  him,  they  were  not  in  the  least 
heart-broken  or  even  troubled  at  his  going. 

As  the  princess  had  said  he  was  to  go  like  the  poor 
man  he  was,  Curdie  came  down  in  the  morning  from  his 
little  loft  dressed  in  his  working  clothes.  His  mother, 
who  was  busy  getting  his  breakfast  for  him,  while  his 
father  sat  reading  to  her  out  of  an  old  book,  would  have 
had  him  put  on  his  holiday  garments,  which,  she  said, 
would  look  poor  enough  amongst  the  fine  ladies  and 
gentlemen  he  was  going  to.  But  Curdie  said  he  did  not 
know  that  he  was  going  amongst  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
and  that  as  work  was  better  than  play,  his  work-day 
clothes  must  on  the  whole  be  better  than  his  play-day 
clothes ;  and  as  his  father  accepted  the  argument,  his 
mother  gave  in. 

When  he  had  eaten  his  breakfast,  she  took  a  pouch 
made  of  goatskin,  with  the  long  hair  on  it,  filled  it  with 
bread  and  cheese,  and  hung  it  over  his  shoulder.  Then 
his  father  gave  him  a  stick  he  had  cut  for  him  in  the 
wood,  and  he  bade  them  good-bye  rather  hurriedly,  for 
he  was  afraid  of  breaking  down.  As  he  went  out,  he 
cai  ght  up  his  mattock  and  took  it  with  him.  It  had  on 


HANDS.  85 

the  one  side  a  pointed  curve  of  strong  steel,  for  loosening 
the  earth  and  the  ore,  and  on  the  other  a  steel  hammer 
for  breaking  the  stones  and  rocks.  Just  as  he  crossed 
the  threshold  the  sun  showed  the  first  segment  of  his 
disc  above  the  horizon. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  HEATH. 

>E  had  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill  to 
get  into  a  country  he  could  cross,  for 
the  mountains  to  the  north  were  full  of 
precipices,  and  it  would  have  been  losing 
time  to  go  that  way.  Not  until  he  had  reached 
the  king's  house  was  it  any  use  to  turn  .northwards 
Many  a  look  did  he  raise,  as  he  passed  it,  to  the 
dove-tower,  and  as  long  as  it  was  in  sight,  but  he  saw 
nothing  of  the  lady  of  the  pigeons. 

On  and  on  he  fared,  and  came  in  a  few  hours  to  a 
country  where  there  were  no  mountains  more — only  hills, 
with  great  stretches  of  desolate  heath.  Here  and  there 
was  a  village,  but  that  brought  him  little  pleasure,  for  the 
people  were  rougher  and  worse-mannered  than  those  in 
the  mountains,  and  as  he  passed  through,  the  children 
came  behind  and  mocked  him.  . 


THE  HEATH.  87 

"  There's  a  monkey  running  away  from  the  mines  ! " 
they  cried. 

Sometimes  their  parents  came  out  and  encouraged 
them. 

"  He  don't  want  to  find  gold  for  the  king  any  longer, 
— the  lazybones  !  "  they  would  say.  "  He'll  be  well  taxed 
down  here  though,  and  he  won't  like  that  either." 

But  it  was  little  to  Curdie  that  men  who  did  not 
know  what  he  was  about  should  not  approve  of  his 
proceedings.  He  gave  them  a  merry  answer  now  and 
then,  and  held  diligently  on  his  way.  When  they  got  so 
rude  as  nearly  to  make  him  angry,  he  would  treat  them 
as  he  used  to  treat  the  goblins,  and  sing  his  own  songs  to 
keep  out  their  foolish  noises.  Once  a  child  fell  as  he 
turned  to  run  away  after  throwing  a  stone  at  him.  He 
picked  him  up,  kissed  him,  and  carried  him  to  his 
mother.  The  woman  had  run  out  in  terror  when  she 
saw  the  strange  miner  about,  as  she  thought,  to  take 
vengeance  on  her  boy.  When  he  put  him  in  her  arms, 
she  blessed  him,  and  Curdie  went  on  his  way  rejoicing. 

And  so  the  day  went  on,  and  the  evening  came,  and  in 
the  middle  of  a  great  desolate  heath  he  began  to  feel 
tired,  and  sat  down  under  an  ancient  hawthorn,  through 
which  every  now  and  then  a  lone  wind  that  seemed  to 
come  from  nowhere  and  to  go  nowhither  sighed  and 
hissed.  It  was  very  old  and  distorted.  There  was  not 


88  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

another  tree  for  miles  all  around.  It  seemed  to  have 
lived  so  long,  and  to  have  been  so  torn  and  tossed  by  the 
tempests  on  that  moor,  that  it  had  at  last  gathered  a 
wind  of  its  own,  which  got  up  now  and  then,  tumbled 
itself  about,  and  lay  down  again. 

Curdie  had  been  so  eager  to  get  on  that  he  had  eaten 
nothing  since  his  breakfast.  But  he  had  had  plenty  of 
water,  for  many  little  streams  had  crossed  his  path.  He 
now  opened  the  wallet  his  mother  had  given  him,  and 
began  to  eat  his  supper.  The  sun  was  setting.  A  few 
clouds  had  gathered  about  the  west,  but  there  was  not  a 
single  cloud  anywhere  else  to  be  seen. 

Now  Curdie  did  not  know  that  this  was  a  part  of  the 
country  very  hard  to  get  through.  Nobody  lived  there, 
though  many  had  tried  to  build  in  it  Some  died  very 
soon.  Some  rushed  out  of  it  Those  who  stayed  longest 
went  raving  mad,  and  died  a  terrible  death.  Such  as 
walked  straight  on,  and  did  not  spend  a  night  there,  got 
through  well,  and  were  nothing  the  worse.  But  those 
who  slept  even  a  single  night  in  it  were  sure  to  meet 
with  something  they  could  never  forget,  and  which  often 
left  a  mark  everybody  could  read.  And  that  old 
hawthorn  might  have  been  enough  for  a  warning — it 
looked  so  like  a  human  being  dried  up  and  distorted  with 
age  and  suffering,  with  cares  instead  of  loves,  and  things 
instead  of  thoughts.  Both  it  and  the  heath  around  it, 


THE  HEATH.  89 

which  stretched  on  all  sides  as  far  as  he  could  see,  were 
so  withered  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether  they 
were  alive  or  not. 

And  while  Curdie  ate  there  came  a  change.  Clouds 
had  gathered  over  his  head,  and  seemed  drifting  about  in 
every  direction,  as  if  not  "shepherded  by  the  slow, 
unwilling  wind,"  but  hunted  in  all  directions  by  wolfish 
flaws  across  the  plains  of  the  sky.  The  sun  was  going 
down  in  a  storm  of  lurid  crimson,  and  out  of  the  west 
came  a  wind  that  felt  red  and  hot  the  on»  moment,  and 
cold  and  pale  the  other.  And  very  strangely  it  sung  in 
the  dreary  old  hawthorn  tree,  and  very  cheerily  it  blew 
about  Curdie,  now  making  him  creep  close  up  to  the  tree 
for  shelter  from  its  shivery  cold,  now  fan  himself  with  his 
cap,  it  was  so  sultry  and  stifling.  It  seemed  to  come 
from  the  death-bed  of  the  sun,  dying  in  fever  and  ague. 

And  as  he  gazed  at  the  sun,  now  on  the  verge  of  the 
horizon,  very  large  and  very  red  and  very  dull — for  though 
the  clouds  had  broken  away  a  dusty  fog  was  spread  all 
over  him — Curdie  saw  something  strange  appear  against 
him,  moving  about  like  a  fly  over  his  burning  face.  It 
looked  as  if  it  were  coming  out  of  his  hot  furnace-heart, 
and  was  a  living  creature  of  some  kind  surely ;  but  its 
shape  was  very  uncertain,  because  the  dazzle  of  the  light 
all  around  it  melted  its  outlines.  It  was  growing  larger, 
it  must  be  approaching !  It  grew  so  rapidly  that  by  the 


90  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

time  the  sun  was  half  down  its  head  reached  the  top  of 
his  arch,  and  presently  nothing  but  its  legs  were  to  be 
seen,  crossing  and  recrossing  the  face  of  the  vanishing 
disc.  When  the  sun  was  down  he  could  see  nothing  of 
it  more,  but  in  a  moment  he  heard  its  feet  galloping 
over  the  dry  crackling  heather,  and  seeming  to  come 
straight  for  him.  He  stood  up,  lifted  his  pick-axe,  and 
threw  the  hammer  end  over  his  shoulder :  he  was  going 
to  have  a  fight  for  his  life  !  And  now  it  appeared  again, 
vague,  yet  very  awful,  in  the  dim  twilight  the  sun  had  left 
behind  him.  But  just  before  it  reached  him,  down  from 
its  four  long  legs  it  dropped  flat  on  the  ground, 
and  came  crawling  towards  him,  wagging  a  huge  tail 
as  it  came. 


CHAPTER  XL 

LINA. 

T  was  Lina.  All  at  once  Curdie  recognised 
her — the  frightful  creature  he  had  seen 
at  the  princess's.  He  dropped  his  pick- 
axe, and  held  out  his  hand.  She  crept 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  laid  her  chin  in  his  palm, 
and  he  patted  her  ugly  head.  Then  she  crept  away 
behind  the  tree,  and  lay  down,  panting  hard. 
Curdie  did  not  much  like  the  idea  of  her  being  behind 
him.  Horrible  as  she  was  to  look  at,  she  seemed  to  his 
mind  more  horrible  when  he  was  not  looking  at  her. 
But  he  remembered  the  child's  hand,  and  never  thought 
of  driving  her  away.  Now  and  then  he  gave  a  glance 
behind  him,  and  there  she  lay  flat,  with  her  eyes  closed 
and  her  terrible  teeth  gleaming  between  her  two  huge 
fore-paws. 

After  his  supper  and  his  long  day's  journey  it  was  no 
wonder  Curdie  should  now  be  sleepy.     Since  the  sun 


9*  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

set  the  air  had  been  warm  and  pleasant.  He  lay  down 
under  the  tree,  closed  his  eyes,  and  thought  to  sleep. 
He  found  himself  mistaken  however.  But  although  he 
could  not  sleep,  he  was  yet  aware  of  resting  delightfully. 
Presently  he  heard  a  sweet  sound  of  singing  somewhere, 
such  as  he  had  never  heard  before — a  singing  as  of 
curious  birds  far  off,  which  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  At 
length  he  heard  their  wings,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  saw  a 
number  of  very  large  birds,  as  it  seemed,  alighting 
around  him,  still  singing.  It  was  strange  to  hear  song 
from  the  throats  of  such  big  birds.  And  still  singing, 
with  large  and  round  but  not  the  less  bird-like  voices, 
they  began  to  weave  a  strange  dance  about  him,  moving 
their  wings  in  time  with  their  legs.  But  the  dance  seemed 
somehow  to  be  troubled  and  broken,  and  to  return  upon 
itself  in  an  eddy,  in  place  of  sweeping  smoothly  on. 
And  he  soon  learned,  in  the  low  short  growls  behind  him, 
the  cause  of  the  imperfection  :  they  wanted  to  dance  all 
round  the  tree,  but  Lina  would  not  permit  them  to  come 
on  her  side. 

Now  Curdie  liked  the  birds,  and  did  not  altogether 
like  Lina.  But  neither,  nor  both  together,  made  a  reason 
for  driving  away  the  princess's  creature.  Doubtless  she 
Tiad  been  a  goblins'  creature,  but  the  last  time  he  saw  her 
was  in  the  king's  house  and  the  dove-tower,  and  at  the 
old  princess's  feet.  So  he  left  her  to  do  as  she  would, 


UNA.  93 

and  the  dance  of  the  birds  continued  only  a  semicircle, 
troubled  at  the  edges,  and  returning  upon  itself.  But 
their  song  and  their  motions,  nevertheless,  and  the 
waving  of  their  wings,  began  at  length  to  make  him  very 
sleepy.  All  the  time  he  had  kept  doubting  every  now 
and  then  whether  they  could  really  be  birds,  and  the 
sleepier  he  got,  the  more  he  imagined  them  something 
else,  but  he  suspected  no  harm.  Suddenly,  just  as  he  was 
sinking  beneath  the  waves  of  slumber,  he  awoke  in  fierce 
pain.  The  birds  were  upon  him — all  over  him — and  had 
begun  to  tear  him  with  beaks  and  claws.  He  had 
but  time,  however,  to  feel  that  he  could  not  move  under 
their  weight,  when  they  set  up  a  hideous  screaming,  and 
scattered  like  a  cloud.  Lina  was  amongst  them,  snapping 
and  striking  with  her  paws,  while  her  tail  knocked  them 
over  and  over.  But  they  flew  up,  gathered,  and  descended 
on  her  in  a  swarm,  perching  upon  every  part  of  her 
body,  so  that  he  could  see  only  a  huge  misshapen  mass, 
which  seemed  to  go  rolling  away  into  the  darkness.  He< 
got  up  and  tried  to  follow,  but  could  see  nothing,  and 
after  wandering  about  hither  and  thither  for  some  time, 
found  himself  again  beside  the  hawthorn.  He  feared 
greatly  that  the  birds  had  been  too  much  for  Lina,  and 
had  torn  her  to  pieces.  In  a  little  while,  however,  she 
came  limping  back,  and  lay  down  in  her  old  place. 
Curdie  also  lay  down,  but,  from  the  pain  of  his  wounds, 


94  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

there  was  no  sleep  for  him.  When  the  light  came  he 
found  his  clothes  a  good  deal  torn  and  his  skin  as  well, 
but  gladly  wondered  why  the  wicked  birds  had  not  at 
once  attacked  his  eyes.  Then  he  turned  looking  for 
Lina.  She  rose  and  crept  to  him.  But  she  was  in  far 
worse  plight  than  he — plucked  and  gashed  and  torn 
with  the  beaks  and  claws  of  the  birds,  especially  about 
the  bare  part  of  her  neck,  so  that  she  was  pitiful  to  see. 
And  those  worst  wounds  she  could  not  reach  to  lick. 

"  Poor  Lina ! "  said  Curdie ;  "  you  got  all  those  helping 
me." 

She  wagged  her  tail,  and  made  it  clear  she  understood 
him.  Then  it  flashed  upon  Curdie's  mind  that  perhaps 
this  was  the  companion  the  princess  had  promised 
him.  For  the  princess  did  so  many  things  differently 
from  what  anybody  looked  for !  Lina  was  no  beauty 
certainly,  but  already,  the  first  night,  she  had  saved  his 
life. 
.  "  Come  along,  Lina,"  he  said ;  "  we  want  water." 

She  put  her  nose  to  the  earth,  and  after  snuffing  for  a 
moment,  darted  off  in  a  straight  line.  Curdie  followed. 
The  ground  was  so  uneven,  that  after  losing  sight  of  her 
many  times,  at  last  he  seemed  to  have  lost  her  altogether. 
In  a  few  minutes,  however,  he  came  upon  her  waiting  for 
him.  Instantly  she  darted  off  again.  After  he  had  lost 
and  found  her  again  many  times,  he  found  her  the  last 


UNA.  95 

time  lying  beside  a  great  stone.  As  soon  as  he  came  up 
she  began  scratching  at  it  with  her  paws.  When  he  had 
raised  it  an  inch  or  two,  she  shoved  in  first  her  nose 
and  then  her  teeth,  and  lifted  with  all  the  might  of  her 
strong  neck. 

When  at  length  between  them  they  got  it  up,  there 
was  a  beautiful  little  well.  He  filled  his  cap  with  the 
clearest  and  sweetest  water,  and  drank.  Then  he  gave 
to  Lina,  and  she  drank  plentifully.  Next  he  washed  her 
wounds  very  carefully.  And  as  he  did  so,  he  noted  how 
much  the  bareness  of  her  neck  added  to  the  strange 
repulsiveness  of  her  appearance.  Then  he  bethought 
him  of  the  goat-skin  wallet  his  mother  had  given  him,  and 
taking  it  from  his  shoulders,  tried  whether  it  would  do  to 
make  a  collar  of  for  the  poor  animal.  He  found  there 
was  just  enough,  and  the  hair  so  similar  in  colour  to 
Lina's,  that  no  one  could  suspect  it  of  having  grown 
somewhere  else.  He  took  his  knife,  ripped  up  the  seams 
of  the  wallet,  and  began  trying  the  skin  to  her  neck.  It 
was  plain  she  understood  perfectly  what  he  wished,  for 
she  endeavoured  to  hold  her  neck  conveniently,  turning 
it  this  way  and  that  while  he  contrived,  with  his  rather 
scanty  material,  to  make  the  collar  fit.  As  his  mother 
had  taken  care  to  provide  him  with  needles  and  thread, 
he  soon  had  a  nice  gorget  ready  for  her.  He  laced  it  on 
with  one  of  his  boot-laces,  which  its  long  hair  covered. 


96  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

Poor  Lina  looked  much  better  in  it.  Nor  could  any  one 
have  called  it  a  piece  of  finery.  If  ever  green  eyes  with 
a  yellow  light  in  them  looked  grateful,  hers  did. 

As  they  had  no  longer  any  bag  to  carry  them  in, 
Curdie  and  Lina  now  ate  what  was  left  of  the  provisions. 
Then  they  set  out  again  upon  their  journey.  For  seven  days 
it  lasted.  They  met  with  various  adventures,  and  in  all 
of  them  Lina  proved  so  helpful,  and  so  ready  to  risk  her 
life  for  the  sake  of  her  companion,  that  Curdie  grew  not 
merely  very  fond  but  very  trustful  of  her,  and  her  ugli- 
ness, which  at  first  only  moved  his  pity,  now  actually 
increased  his  affection  for  her.  One  day,  looking  at 
her  stretched  on  the  grass  before  him,  he  said, — 

"  Oh,  Lina !  if  the  princess  would  but  burn  you  in  her 
fire  of  roses  ! " 

She  looked  up  at  him,  gave  a  mourful  whine  like  a  dog, 
and  laid  her  head  on  his  feet.  What  or  how  much  he 
could  not  tell,  but  clearly  she  had  gathered  something 
from  his  words. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MORE     CREATURES. 

NE  day  from  morning  till  night  they  had 
been  passing  through  a  forest.  As  soon  as 
the  sun  was  down  Curdie  began  to  be 
aware  that  there  were  more  in  it  than 
themselves.  First  he  saw  only  the  swift  rush  of  a 
figure  across  the  trees  at  some  distance.  Then  he  saw 
another  and  then  another  at  shorter  intervals.  Then 
he  saw  others  both  further  off  and  nearer.  At  last, 
missing  Lina  and  looking  about  after  her,  he  saw  an 
appearance  almost  as  marvellous  as  herself  steal  up  to 
her,  and  begin  conversing  with  her  after  some  beast 
fashion  which  evidently  she  understood. 

Presently  what  seemed  a  quarrel  arose  between  them, 
and  stranger  noises  followed,  mingled  with  growling. 
At  length  it  came  to  a  fight,  which  had  not.  lasted 
long,  however,  before  the  creature  of  the  wood  threw 
itself  upon  its  back,  and  held  up  its  paws  to  Lina.  She 


98  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

instantly  walked  on,  and  the  creature  got  up  and  followed 
her.  They  had  not  gone  far  before  another  strange 
animal  appeared,  approaching  Lina,  when  precisely  the 
same  thing  was  repeated,  the  vanquished  animal  rising 
and  following  with  the  former.  Again,  and  yet  again 
and  again,  a  fresh  animal  came  up,  seemed  to  be 
reasoned  and  certainly  was  fought  with  and  overcome  by 
Lina,  until  at  last,  before  they  were  out  of  the  wood,  she 
was  followed  by  forty-nine  of  the  most  grotesquely  ugly, 
the  most  extravagantly  abnormal  animals  imagination  can 
conceive.  To  describe  them  were  a  hopeless  task.  I 
knew  a  boy  who  used  to  make  animals  out  of  heather 
roots.  Wherever  he  could  find  four  legs,  he  was  pretty 
sure  to  find  a  head  and  a  tail.  His  beasts  were  a  most 
comic  menagerie,  and  right  fruitful  of  laughter.  But 
they  were  not  so  grotesque  and  extravagant  as  Lina  and 
her  followers.  One  of  them,  for  instance,  was  like  a  boa 
constrictor  walking  on  four  little  stumpy  legs  near  its  tail 
About  the  same  distance  from  its  head  were  two  little 
wings,  which  it  was  for  ever  fluttering  as  if  trying  to  fly 
with  them.  Curdie  thought  it  fancied  it  did  fly  with 
them,  when  it  was  merely  plodding  on  busily  with  its 
four  little  stumps.  How  it  managed  to  keep  up  he 
could  not  think,  till  once  when  he  missed  it  from  the 
group  :  the  same  moment  he  caught  sight  of  something 
at  a  distance  Dlunging  at  an  awful  serpentine  rate 


MORE  CREATURES.  99 

through  the  trees,  and  presently,  from  behind  a  huge 
£-sh,  this  same  creature  fell  again  into  the  group,  quietly 
waddling  along  on  its  four  stumps.  Watching  it  after  this, 
he  saw  that,  when  it  was  not  able  to  keep  up  any  longer, 
and  they  had  all  got  a  little  space  ahead,  it  shot  into 
the  wood  away  from  the  route,  and  made  a  great  round, 
serpenting  along  in  huge  billows  of  motion,  devouring 
the  ground,  undulating  awfully,  galloping  as  if  it  were  all 
legs  together,  and  its  four  stumps  nowhere.  In  this 
mad  fashion  it  shot  ahead,  and,  a  few  minutes  after, 
toddled  in  again  amongst  the  rest,  walking  peacefully 
and  somewhat  painfully  on  its  few  fours. 

From  the  time  it  takes  to  describe  one  of  them  it 
will  be  readily  seen  that  it  would  hardly  do  to  attempt  a 
description  of  each  of  the  forty-nine.  They  were  not  a 
goodly  company,  but  well  worth  contemplating  neverthe- 
less ;  and  Curdie  had  been  too  long  used  to  the  goblins' 
creatures  in  the  mines  and  on  the  mountain,  to  feel  the 
least  uncomfortable  at  being  followed  by  such  a  herd. 
On  the  contrary  the  marvellous  vagaries  of  shape  they 
manifested  amused  him  greatly,  and  shortened  the  jour- 
ney much.  Before  they  were  all  gathered,  however,  it  had 
got  so  dark  that  he  could  see  some  of  them  only  a  part 
at  a  time,  and  every  now  and  then,  as  the  company 
wandered  on,  he  would  be  startled  by  some  extraordinary 
limb  or  feature,  undreamed  of  by  him  before,  thrusting 


loo  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

itself  out  of  the  darkness  into  the  range  of  his  ken. 
Probably  there  were  some  of  his  old  acquaintances 
among  them,  although  such  had  been  the  conditions  of 
semi-darkness  in  which  alone  he  had  ever  seen  any  of 
them,  that  it  was  not  likely  he  would  be  able  to  identify 
any  of  them. 

On  they  marched  solemnly,  almost  in  silence,  for 
either  with  feet  or  voice  the  creatures  seldom  made  any 
noise.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  outside  of  the 
wood  it  was  morning  twilight.  Into  the  open  trooped 
the  strange  torrent  of  deformity,  each  one  following 
Lina.  Suddenly  she  stopped,  turned  towards  them,  and 
said  something  which  they  understood,  although  to 
Curdie's  ear  the  sounds  she  made  seemed  to  have  no 
articulation.  Instantly  they  all  turned,  and  vanished 
in  the  forest,  and  Lina  alone  came  trotting  lithely  and 
clumsily  after  her  master. 


CHAPTER    XIIL 
THE    BAKER'S  WIFE. 

>HEY  were  now  passing  through  a  lovely 
country  of  hill  and  dale  and  rushing 
stream.  The  hills  were  abrupt,  with 
broken  chasms  for  water-courses,  and  deep 
little  valleys  full  of  trees.  But  now  and  then  they 
came  to  a  larger  valley,  with  a  fine  river,  whose  level 
banks  and  the  adjacent  meadows  were  dotted  all  over 
with  red  and  white  kine,  while  on  the  fields  above, 
that  sloped  a  little  to  the  foot  of  the  hills,  grew  oats  and 
barley  and  wheat,  and  on  the  sides  of  the  hills  themselves 
vines  hung  and  chestnuts  rose.  They  came  at  last  to  a 
broad,  beautiful  river,  up  which  they  must  go  to  arrive  at 
the  city  of  Gwyntystorm,  where  the  king  had  his  court. 
As  they  went  the  valley  narrowed,  and  then  the  river, 
but  still  it  was  wide  enough  for  large  boats.  After  this, 
while  the  river  kept  its  size,  the  banks  narrowed,  until 
there  was  only  room  for  a  road  between  the  river  and  the 


102  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

great  cliffs  that  overhung  it  At  last  river  and  road  took 
a  sudden  turn,  and  lo  !  a  great  rock  in  the  river,  which 
dividing  flowed  around  it,  and  on  the  top  of  the  rock  the 
city,  with  lofty  walls  and  towers  and  battlements,  and 
above  the  city  the  palace  of  the  king,  built  like  a  strong 
castle.  But  the  fortifications  had  long  been  neglected, 
for  the  whole  country  was  now  under  one  king,  and  all 
men  said  there  was  no  more  need  for  weapons  or  walls. 
No  man  pretended  to  love  his  neighbour,  but  every  one 
said  he  knew  that  peace  and  quiet  behaviour  was  the 
best  thing  for  himself,  and  that,  he  said,  was  quite  as 
useful,  and  a  great  deal  more  reasonable.  The  city  was 
prosperous  and  rich,  and  if  anybody  was  not  comfort- 
able, everybody  else  said  he  ought  to  be. 

When  Curdie  got  up  opposite  the  mighty  rock,  which 
sparkled  all  over  with  crystals,  he  found  a  narrow  bridge, 
defended  by  gates  and  portcullis  and  towers  with  loop- 
holes. But  the  gates  stood  wide  open,  and  were  drop- 
ping from  their  great  hinges ;  the  portcullis  was  eaten 
away  with  rust,  and  clung  to  the  grooves  evidently  im- 
movable ;  while  the  loopholed  towers  had  neither  floor 
nor  roof,  and  their  tops  were  fast  filling  up  their  interiors. 
Curdie  thought  it  a  pity,  if  only  for  their  old  story, 
that  they  should  be  thus  neglected.  But  everybody  in 
the  city  regarded  these  signs  of  decay  as  the  best  pr<  of 
of  the  prosperity  of  the  place.  Commerce  and  s.lf- 


THE  BAKER'S  WIFE.  103 

interest,  they  said,  had  got  the  better  of  violence,  and 
the  troubles  of  the  past  were  whelmed  in  the  riches 
that  flowed  in  at  their  open  gates.  Indeed  there  was 
one  sect  of  philosophers  in  it  which  taught  that  it  would 
be  better  to  forget  all  the  past  history  of  the  city,  were  it 
not  that  its  former  imperfections  taught  its  present  inhabit- 
ants how  superior  they  and  their  times  were,  and  enabled 
them  to  glory  over  their  ancestors.  There  were  even  cer- 
tain quacks  in  the  city  who  advertised  pills  for  enabling 
people  to  think  well  of  themselves,  and  some  few  bought 
of  them,  but  most  laughed,  and  said,  with  evident  truth, 
that  they  did  not  require  them.  Indeed,  the  general 
theme  of  discourse  when  they  met  was,  how  much  wiser 
they  were  than  their  fathers. 

Curdie  crossed  the  river,  and  began  to  ascend  the 
winding  road  that  led  up  to  the  city.  They  met  a  good 
many  idlers,  and  all  stared  at  them.  It  was  no  wonder 
they  should  stare,  but  there  was  an  unfriendliness  in 
their  looks  which  Curdie  did  not  like.  .  No  one,  how- 
ever, offered  them  any  molestation  :  Lina  did  not  invite 
liberties.  After  a  long  ascent,  they  reached  the  principal 
gate  of  the  city  and  entered. 

The  street  was  very  steep,  ascending  towards  the 
palace,  which  rose  in  great  strength  above  all  the  houses. 
J  ust  as  they  entered,  a  baker,  whose  shop  was  a  lew 
doors  inside  the  gate,  came  out  in  his  white  apron,  and 


104  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

ran  to  the  shop  of  his  friend  the  barber  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  way.  But  as  he  rnn  he  stumbled  and  fell 
heavily.  Curdie  hastened  to  help  him  up,  and  found  he 
had  bruised  his  forehead  badly.  He  swore  grievously  at 
the  stone  for  tripping  him  up,  declaring  it  was  the  third 
time  he  had  fallen  over  it  within  the  last  month ;  and 
saying  what  was  the  king  about  that  he  allowed  such  a 
stone  to  stick  up  for  ever  on  the  main  street  of  his  royal 
residence  of  Gwyntystorm  !  What  was  a  king  for  if  he 
would  not  take  care  of  his  people's  heads  !  And  he 
stroked  his.  forehead  tenderly. 

"  Was  it  your  head  or  your  feet  that  ought  to  bear  the 
blame  of  your  fall  ?  "  asked  Curdie. 

"  Why,  you  booby  of  a  miner  !  my  feet,  of  course," 
answered  the  baker. 

"Nay,  then,"  said  Curdie,  "the  king  can't  be  to 
blame." 

Oh,  I  see  ! "  said  the  baker.  "  You're  laying  a  trap 
for  me.  Of  course,  if  you  come  to  that,  it  was  my  head 
that  ought  to  have  looked  after  my  feet.  But  it  is  the  king's 
part  to  look  after  us  all,  and  have  his  streets  smooth." 

"Well,  I  don't  see,"  said  Curdie,  "why  the  king 
should  take  care  of  the  baker,  when  the  baker's  head 
won:t  take  care  of  the  baker's  feet." 

"  Who  are  you  to  make  game  of  the  king's  baker  ?  " 
cried  the  man  in  a  rarje. 


THE  BAKER'S   WIFE.  10$ 

But,  instead  of  answering,  Curdie  went  up  to  the 
bump  on  the  street  which  had  repeated  itself  on  the 
baker's  head,  and  turning  the  hammer  end  of  his 
mattock,  struck  it  such  a  blow  that  it  flew  wide  in  pieces. 
Blow  after  blow  he  struck,  until  he  had  levelled  it  with 
the  street. 

But  out  flew  the  barber  upon  him  in  a  rage. 

"  What  do  you  break  my  window  for,  you  rascal,  with 
your  pickaxe  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Curdie.  "  It  must  have  been 
a  bit  of  stone  that  flew  from  my  mattock.  I  couldn't 
help  it,  you  know." 

"  Couldn't  help  it !  A  fine  story  !  What  do  you  go 
breaking  the  rock  for — the  very  rock  upon  which  the  city 
stands  ?  " 

"  Look  at  your  friend's  forehead,"  said  Curdie.  "  See 
what  a  lump  he  has  got  on  it  with  falling  over  that 
same  stone." 

"  What's  that  to  my  window  ?  "  cried  the  barber.  "  His 
forehead  can  mend  itself;  my  poor  window  can't." 

"But  he's  the  king's  baker,"  said  Curdie,  more  and 
more  surprised  at  the  man's  anger. 

"  What's  that  to  me  ?  This  is  a  free  city.  Every  man 
here  takes  care  of  himself,  and  the  king  takes  care  of  us 
all.  I'll  have  the  price  of  my  window  out  of  you,  or  the 
exchequer  shall  pay  for  it" 


lo6  THE  PRINCESS  AND   CURD1E. 

Something  caught  Curdie's  eye.  He  stooped,  picked 
up  a  piece  of  the  stone  he  had  just  broken,  and  put  it  in 
his  pocket. 

"I  suppose  you  are  going  to  break  another  of  my 
windows  with  that  stone  1 "  said  the  barber. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Curdie.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  break  your 
window,  and  I  certainly  won't  break  another." 

"  Give  me  that  stone,"  said  the  barber. 

Curdie  gave  it  him,  and  the  barber  threw  it  over  the 
city  wall 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  the  stone,"  said  Curdie. 

"  No,  you  fool ! "  answered  the  barber.  "  What  should 
I  want  with  a  stone  ?  " 

Curdie  stooped  and  picked  up  another. 

"  Give  me  that  stone,"  said  the  barber. 

"No,"  answered  Curdie.  "You  have  just  told  me 
you  don't  want  a  stone,  and  I  do." 

The  barber  took  Curdie  by  the  collar. 

"  Come,  now  !  you  pay  me  for  that  window." 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  Curdie. 

The  barber  said,  "A  crown."  But  the  baker,  annoyed 
at  the  heartlessness  of  the  barber,  in  thinking  more  of  his 
broken  window  than  the  bump  on  his  friend's  forehead, 
interfered. 

"No,  no,"  he  said  to  Curdie;  "don't  you  pay  any 
such  sum.  A  little  pane  like  that  cost  only  a  quarter." 


THE  BAKER'S  WIFE.  IC7 

"Well,  to  be  certain,"  said  Curdie,  " I'll  give  him  a 
half."  For  he  doubted  the  baker  as  well  as  the  barber. 
"  Perhaps  one  day,  if  he  find  he  has  asked  too  much,  he 
will  bring  me  the  difference." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  barber.  "A  fool  and  his 
money  are  soon  parted. " 

But  as  he  took  the  coin  from  Curdie's  hand  he  grasped 
it  in  affected  reconciliation  and  real  satisfaction.  In 
Curdie's,  his  was  the  cold  smooth  leathery  palm  of  a 
monkey.  He  looked  up,  almost  expecting  to  see  him 
pop  the  money  in  his  cheek ;  but  he  had  not  yet  got  so 
far  as  that,  though  he  was  well  on  the  road  to  it :  then  he 
would  have  no  other  pocket. 

"  I'm  glad  that  stone  is  gone,  anyhow,"  said  the  baker. 
"  It  was  the  bane  of  my  life.  I  had  no  idea  how  easy 
it  was  to  remove  it.  Give  me  your  pickaxe,  young  miner, 
and  I  will  show  you  how  a  baker  can  make  the  stones 
fly." 

He  caught  the  tool  out  of  Curdie's  hand,  and  flew  at 
one  of  the  foundation  stones  of  the  gateway.  But  he 
jarred  his  arm  terribly,  scarcely  chipped  the  stone, 
dropped  the  mattock  with  a  cry  of  pain,  and  ran  into  his 
own  shop.  Curdie  picked  up  his  implement,  and  looking 
after  the  baker,  saw  bread  in  the  window,  and  followed 
him  in.  But  the  baker,  ashamed  of  himself,  and  think- 
ing he  was  coming  to  laugh  at  him,  popped  out  of  the 


108  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

back  door,  and  when  Curdle  entered,  the  baker's  wife 
came  from  the  bakehouse  to  serve  him.  Curdie  re- 
quested to  know  the  price  of  a  certain  good-sized  loaf. 

Now  the  baker's  wife  had  been  watching  what  had 
passed  since  first  her  husband  ran  out  of  the  shop,  and 
she  liked  the  look  of  Curdie.  Also  she  was  more  honest 
than  her  husband.  Casting  a  glance  to  the  back  door, 
she  replied, — 

"  That  is  not  the  best  bread.  I  will  sell  you  a  loaf  of 
what  we  bake  for  ourselves."  And  when  she  had  spoken 
she  laid  a  finger  on  her  lips.  "  Take  care  of  yourself  in 
this  place,  my  son,"  she  added.  "They  do  not  love 
strangers.  I  was  once  a  stranger  here,  and  I  know  what 
I  say."  Then  fancying  she  heard  her  husband, — "  That 
is  a  strange  animal  you  have,"  she  said,  in  a  louder 
voice. 

"Yes,"  answered  Curdie.  "She  is  no  beauty,  but  she 
is  very  good,  and  we  love  each  other.  Don't  we,  Lina  ?  " 

Lina  looked  up  and  whined.  Curdie  threw  her  the 
half  of  his  loaf,  which  she  ate  while  her  master  and  the 
baker's  wife  talked  a  little.  Then  the  baker's  wife  gave 
them  some  water,  and  Curdie  having  paid  for  liis  loaf^  he 
and  Lina  went  up  the  street  together. 


THE   DOGS   OF   GWYNTYSTORM. 

steep  street  led  them  straight  up  to  a 
large  market-place,  with  butchers'  shops, 
gnjj  about  which  were  many  dogs.  The 
moment  they  caught  sight  of  Lina,  one 
and  all  they  came  rushing  down  upon  her,  giving 
her  no  chance  of  explaining  herself.  When  Curdie 
saw  the  dogs  coming  he  heaved  up  his  mattock  over 
his  shoulder,  and  was  ready,  if  they  would  have  it 
so.  Seeing  him  thus  prepared  to  defend  his  follower, 
a  great  ugly  bull-dog  flew  at  him.  With  the  first 
blow  Curdie  struck  him  through  the  brain,  and  the 
brute  fell  dead  at  his  feet.  But  he  could  not  at  once 
recover  his  weapon,  which  stuck  in  the  skull  of  his  foe, 
and  a  huge  mastiff,  seeing  him  thus  hampered,  flew  at 
him  next.  Now  Lina,  who  had  shown  herself  so  brave 
upon  the  road  thither,  had  grown  shy  upon  entering  the 
city,  and  kept  always  at  Curdie's  heel  But  it  was  her 

10 


I  io  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD  IE. 

turn  now.  The  moment  she  saw  her  master  in  danger 
she  seemed  to  go  mad  with  rage.  As  the  mastiff  jumped 
at  Curdie's  throat,  Lina  flew  at  his,  seized  him  with  her 
tremendous  jaws,  gave  one  roaring  grind,  and  he  lay 
beside  the  bull-dog  with  his  neck  broken.  They  were 
the  best  dogs  in  the  market,  after  the  judgment  of  the 
butchers  of  Gwyntystorm.  Down  came  their  masters, 
knife  in  hand. 

Curdie  drew  himself  up  fearlessly,  mattock  on  shoulder, 
and  awaited  their  coming,  while  at  his  heel  his  awful 
attendant  showed  not  only  her  outside  fringe  of  icicle- 
teeth,  but  a  double  row  of  right  serviceable  fangs  she  wore 
inside  her  mouth,  and  her  green  eyes  flashed  yellow  as 
gold.  The  butchers  not  liking  the  look  either  of  them 
or  of  the  dogs  at  their  feet,  drew  back,  and  began  to 
remonstrate  in  the  manner  of  outraged  men. 

"  Stranger,"  said  the  first,  "  that  bull-dog  is  mine." 

"  Take  him,  then,"  said  Curdie,  indignant 

"You've  killed  him!" 

"  Yes — else  he  would  have  killed  me." 

"  That's  no  business  of  mine," 

"No?" 

"No." 

"  That  makes  it  the  more  mine,  then." 

"This  sort  of  thing  won't  do,  you  know,"  said  the 
other  butcher. 


THE  DOGS  OF  GWYNTYSTORAI.  in 

"That's  true,"  said  Curdie. 

"That's  my  mastiff,"  said  the  butcher. 

"  And  as  he  ought  to  be,"  said  Curdie. 

"Your  brute  shall  be  burnt  alive  for  it,"  said  the 
butcher. 

"Not  yet,"  answered  Curdie.  "We  have  done  no 
wrong.  We  were  walking  quietly  up  your  street,  when 
your  dogs  flew  at  us.  If  you  don't  teach  your  dogs  how 
to  treat  strangers,  you  must  take  the  consequences." 

"They  treat  them  quite  properly,"  said  the  butcher. 
"  What  right  has  any  one  to  bring  an  abomination  like 
that  into  our  city  ?  The  horror  is  enough  to  make  an 
idiot  of  every  child  in  the  place." 

"We  are  both  subjects  of  the  king,  and  my  poor 
animal  can't  help  her  looks.  How  would  you  like  to  be 
served  like  that  because  you  were  ugly  ?  She's  not  a  bit 
fonder  of  her  looks  than  you  are — only  what  can  she  do 
to  change  them  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  to  change  them,"  said  the  fellow. 

Thereupon  the  butchers  brandished  their  long  knives 
and  advanced,  keeping  their  eyes  upon  Lina. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Lina,"  cried  Curdie.  "  I'U  kill  one 
• — you  kill  the  other." 

Lina  gave  a  howl  that  might  have  terrified  an 
army,  and  crouched  ready  to  spring.  The  butchers 
turned  and  ran. 


113  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

By  this  time  a  great  crowd  had  gathered  behind  the 
butchers,  and  in  it  a  number  of  boys  returning  from 
school,  who  began  to  stone  the  strangers.  It  was  a  way 
they  had  with  man  or  beast  they  did  not  expect  to  make 
anything  by.  One  of  the  stones  struck  Lina ;  she  caught 
it  in  her  teeth  and  crunched  it  that  it  fell  in  gravel  from 
her  mouth.  Some  of  the  foremost  of  the  crowd  saw 
this,  and  it  terrified  them.  They  drew  back;  the  rest 
took  fright  from  their  retreat ;  the  panic  spread ;  and  at 
last  the  crowd  scattered  in  all  directions.  They  ran,  and 
cried  out,  and  said  the  devil  and  his  dam  were  come  to 
Gwyntystorm.  So  Curdie  and  Lina  were  left  standing 
unmolested  in  the  market-place.  But  the  terror  of  them 
spread  throughout  the  city,  and  everybody  began  to  shut 
and  lock  his  door,  so  that  by  the  time  the  setting  sun 
shone  down  the  street,  there  was  not  a  shop  left  open, 
for  fear  of  the  devil  and  his  horrible  dam.  But  all  the 
upper  windows  within  sight  of  them  were  crowded  with 
heads  watching  them  where  they  stood  lonely  in  the 
deserted  market-place.  • 

Curdie  looked  carefully  all  round,  but  could  not  see 
one  open  door.  He  caught  sight  of  the  sign  of  an  inn 
however,  and  laying  down  his  mattock,  and  telling  Lina 
to  take  care  of  it,  walked  up  to  the  door  of  it  and  knocked. 
But  the  people  in  the  house,  instead  of  opening  the  door, 
threw  things  at  him  from  the  windows.  They  would  not 


THE  DOGS  OF  GWYNJYSTORM.  113 

listen  to  a  word  he  said,  but  sent  him  back  to  Lina  with 
the  blood  running  down  his  face.  When  Lina  saw  that, 
she  leaped  up  in  a  fury  and  was  rushing  at  the  house, 
into  which  she  would  certainly  have  broken ;  but  Curdie 
called  her,  and  made  her  lie  down  beside  him  while  he 
bethought  him  what  next  he  should  do. 

"Lina,"  he  said,  "the  people  keep  their  gates  open, 
but  their  houses  and  their  hearts  shut." 

As  if  she  knew  it  was  her  presence  that  had  brought 
this  trouble  upon  him,  she  rose,  and  went  round  and 
round  him,  purring  like  a  tigress,  and  rubbing  herself 
against  his  legs. 

Now  there  was  one  little  thatched  house  that  stood 
squeezed  in  between  two  tall  gables,  and  the  sides  of  the 
two  great  houses  shot  out  projecting  windows  that  nearly 
met  across  the  roof  of  the  little  one,  so  that  it  lay  in  the 
street  like  a  doll's  house.  In  this  house  lived  a  poor  old 
woman,  with  a  grandchild.  And  because  she  never 
gossiped  or  quarrelled,  or  chaffered  in  the  market,  but 
went  without  what  she  could  not  afford,  the  people 
called  her  a  witch,  and  would  have  done  her  many  an 
ill  turn  if  they  had  not  been  afraid  of  her.  Now  while 
Curdie  was  looking  in  another  direction  the  door  opened, 
and  out  came  a  little  dark-haired,  black-eyed,  gipsy-look- 
ing child,  and  toddled  across  the  market-place  towards 
the  outcasts.  The  moment  they  saw  her  coming,  Lina 


114  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE 

lay  down  flat  on  the  road,  and  with  her  two  huge  fore- 
paws  covered  her  mouth,  while  Curdie  went  to  meet  her, 
holding  out  his  arms.  The  little  one  came  straight  to 
him,  and  held  up  her  mouth  to  be  kissed.  Then  she 
took  him  by  the  hand,  and  drew  him  towards  the  house, 
and  Curdie  yielded  to  the  silent  invitation.  But  when 
Lina  rose  to  follow,  the  child  shrunk  from  her,  frightened 
a  little.  Curdie  took  her  up,  and  holding  her  on  one 
arm,  patted  Lina  with  the  other  hand.  Then  the  child 
wanted  also  to  pat  doggy,  as  she  called  her  by  a  right 
bountiful  stretch  of  courtesy,  and  having  once  patted  her, 
nothing  would  serve  but  Curdie  must  let  her  have  a  ride 
on  doggy.  So  he  set  her  on  Lina's  back,  holding  her 
hand,  and  she  rode  home  in  merry  triumph,  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  hundreds  of  eyes  staring  at  her  foolhardi- 
ness  from  the  windows  about  the  market-place,  or  the 
murmur  of  deep  disapproval  that  rose  from  as  many  lips. 
At  the  door  stood  the  grandmother  to  receive  them.  She 
caught  the  child  to  her  bosom  with  delight  at  her  courage, 
welcomed  Curdie,  and  showed  no  dread  of  Lina.  Many 
were  the  significant  nods  exchanged,  and  many  a  one 
said  to  another  that  the  devil  and  the  witch  were  old 
friends.  But  the  woman  was  only  a  wise  woman,  who 
-  having  seen  how  Curdie  and  Lina  behaved  to  each  other, 
judged  from  that  what  sort  they  were,  and  so  made  them 
welcome  to  her  house.  She  was  not  like  her  fellow- 


THE  DOGS  OF  GWYNTYSTORM.  115 

townspeople,  for  that  they  were  strangers  recommended 
them  to  her. 

The  moment  her  door  was  shut,  the  other  doors  began 
to  open,  and  soon  there  appeared  little  groups  about 
here  and  there  a  threshold,  while  a  few  of  the  more 
courageous  ventured  out  upon  the  square — all  icady  to 
make  for  their  houses  again,  however,  upon  the  least 
sign  of  movement  in  the  little  thatched  one. 

The  baker  and  the  barber  had  joined  one  of  these 
groups,  and  were  busily  wagging  their  tongues  against 
Curdle  and  his  horrible  beast. 

"He  can't  be  honest,"  said  the  barber;  "for  he 
paid  me  double  the  worth  of  the  pane  he  broke  in  my 
window." 

And  then  he  told  them  how  Curdie  broke  his  window 
by  breaking  a  stone  in  the  street  with  his  hammer.  There 
the  baker  struck  in. 

"Now  that  was  the  stone,"  said  he,  "over  which  I  had 
fallen  three  times  within  the  last  month :  could  it  be  by 
fair  means  he  broke  that  to  pieces  at  the  first  blow? 
Just  to  make  up  my  mind  on  that  point  I  tried  his  own 
hammer  against  a  stone  in  the  gate ;  it  nearly  broke  both 
my  arms,  and  loosened  half  the  teeth  in  my  head  1" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DERBA.   AND    BARBARA. 

EANTIME  the  wanderers  were  hospitably 
entertained  by  the  old  woman  and  her 
grandchild,  and  they  were  all  very  comfort- 
able and  happy  together.  Little  Barbara 
sat  upon  Curdie's  knee,  and  he  told  her  stories  about 
the  mines  and  his  adventures  in  them.  But  he  never 
mentioned  the  king  or  the  princess,  for  all  that 
story  was  hard  to  believe.  And  he  told  her  about 
his  mother  and  his  father,  and  how  good  they  were. 
And  Derba  sat  and  listened.  At  last  little  Barbara 
fell  asleep  in  Curdie's  arms,  and  her  grandmother 
carried  her  to  bed. 

It  was  a  poor  little  house,  and  Derba  gave  up  her  own 
room  to  Curdie,  because  he  was  honest  and  talked  wisely. 
Curdie  saw  how  it  was,  and  begged  her  to  allow  him  to 
'ie  on  the  floor,  but  she  would  not  hear  of  it. 

In  the  night  he  was  waked  by  Lina  pulling  at  him. 


DERBA  AND  BARBARA.  117 

As  soon  as  he  spoke  to  her  she  ceased,  and  Curdie, 
listening,  thought  he  heard  some  one  trying  to  get  in.  He 
rose,  took  his  mattock,  and  went  about  the  house,  listen- 
ing and  watching ;  but  although  he  heard  noises  now  at 
one  place,  now  at  another,  he  could  not  think  what  they 
meant,  for  no  one  appeared.  Certainly,  considering  how 
she  had  frightened  them  all  in  the  day,  it  was  not  likely 
any  one  would  attack  Lina  at  night.  By-and-by  the 
noises  ceased,  and  Curdie  went  back  to  his  bed,  and 
slept  undisturbed. 

In  the  morning,  however,  Derba  came  to  him  in  great 
agitation,  and  said  they  had  fastened  up  the  door,  so  that 
she  could  not  get  out.  Curdie  rose  immediately  and 
went  with  her :  they  found  that  not  only  the  door,  but 
every  window  in  the  house  was  so  secured  on  the  out- 
side that  it  was  impossible  to  open  one  of  them  without 
using  great  force.  Poor  Derba  looked  anxiously  in 
Curdie's  face.  He  broke  out  laughing. 

"They  are  much  mistaken,"  he  said,  "if  they  fancy 
they  could  keep  Lina  and  a  miner  in  any  house  in 
Gwyntystorm — even  if  they  built  up  doors  and  windows." 

With  that  he  shouldered  his  mattock.  But  Derba 
begged  him  not  to  make  a  hole  in  her  house  just  yet.  She 
had  plenty  for  breakfast,  she  said,  and  before  it  was 
time  for  dinner  they  would  know  what  the  people  meant 
by  it 


US  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

And  indeed  they  did.  For  within  an  hour  appeared 
one  of  the  chief  magistrates  of  the  city,  accompanied  by 
a  score  of  soldiers  with  drawn  swords,  and  followed  by  a 
great  multitude  of  the  people,  requiring  the  miner  and 
his  brute  to  yield  themselves,  the  one  that  he  might  be 
tried  for  the  disturbance  he  had  occasioned  and  the 
injury  he  had  committed,  the  other  that  she  might  be 
roasted  alive  for  her  part  in  killing  two  valuable  and 
harmless  animals  belonging  to  worthy  citizens.  The 
summons  was  preceded  and  followed  by  flourish  of 
trumpet,  and  was  read  with  every  formality  by  the  city 
marshal  himself. 

The  moment  he  ended,  Lina  ran  into  the  little  passage, 
and  stood  opposite  the  door. 

"  I  surrender,"  cried  Curdie. 

"Then  tie  up  your  brute,  and  give  her  here." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Curdie  through  the  door.  "I  sur 
render;  but  I'm  not  going  to  do  your  hangman's  work. 
If  you  want  my  dog,  you  must  take  her." 

"  Then  we  shall  set  the  house  on  fire,  and  burn  witch 
and  all." 

"  It  will  go  hard  with  us  but  we  shall  kill  a  few  dozen 
of  you  first,"  cried  Curdie.  "  We're  not  the  least  afraid 
of  you." 

With  that  Curdie  turned  to  Derba,  and  said  : — 

M  Don't  be  frightened.     I  have  a  strong  feeling  that  all 


DERBA  AND  BARBARA.  119 

will  be  well.  Surely  no  trouble  will  come  to  you  for 
being  good  to  strangers." 

"  But  the  poor  dog ! "  said  Derba. 

Now  Curdie  and  Lina  understood  each  other  more 
than  a  little  by  this  time,  and  not  only  had  he  seen 
that  she  understood  the  proclamation,  but  when  she 
looked  up  at  him  after  it  was  read,  it  was  with  such  a 
grin,  and  such  a  yellow  flash,  that  he  saw  also  she  was 
determined  to  take  care  of  herself. 

"  The  dog  will  probably  give  you  reason  to  think  a 
little  more  of  her  ere  long,"  he  answered.  "  But  now,"  he 
went  on,  "  I  fear  I  must  hurt  your  house  a  little.  I  have 
great  confidence,  however,  that  I  shall  be  able  to  make 
up  to  you  for  it  one  day." 

"Never  mind  the  house,  if  only  you  can  get  safe  off," 
she  answered.  "  I  don't  think  they  will  hurt  this  precious 
lamb,"  she  added,  clasping  little  Barbara  to  her  bosom. 
"  For  myself,  it  is  all  one  ;  I  am  ready  for  anything." 

"  It  is  but  a  little  hole  for  Lina  I  want  to  make,"  said 
Curdie.  "She  can  creep  through  a  much  smaller  one 
than  you  would  think." 

Again  he  took  his  mattock,  and  went  to  the  back 
wall 

"They  won't  burn  the  house,"  he  said  to  himself 
"  There  is  too  good  a  one  on  each  side  of  it" 

The  tumult  had  kept  increasing  every  moment,  and 


120  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

the  city  marshal  had  been  shouting,  but  Curdie  had  not 
listened  to  him.  When  now  they  heard  the  blows  of  his 
mattock,  there  went  up  a  great  cry,  and  the  people 
taunted  the  soldiers  that  they  were  afraid  of  a  dog  and 
his  miner.  The  soldiers  therefore  made  a  rush  at  the 
door,  and  cut  its  fastenings. 

The  moment  they  opened  it,  out  leaped  Lina,  with  a 
roar  so  unnaturally  horrible  that  the  sword-arms  of  the 
soldiers  dropped  by  their  sides,  paralysed  with  the  terror 
of  that  cry ;  the  crowd  fled  in  every  direction,  shrieking 
and  yelling  with  mortal  dismay ;  and  without  even  knock- 
ing down  with  her  tail,  not  to  say  biting  a  man  of  them 
with  her  pulverizing  jaws,  Lina  vanished — no  one  knew 
whither,  for  not  one  of  the  crowd  had  had  courage  to 
look  upon  her. 

The  moment  she  was  gone,  Curdie  advanced  and  gave 
himself  up.  The  soldiers  were  so  filled  with  fear,  shame, 
and  chagrin,  that  they  were  ready  to  kill  him  on  the  spot. 
But  he  stood  quietly  facing  them,  with  his  mattock  on 
his  shoulder;  and  the  magistrate  wishing  to  examine 
him,  and  the  people  to  see  him  made  an  example  of,  the 
soldiers  had  to  content  themselves  with  taking  him. 
Partly  for  derision,  partly  to  hurt  him,  they  laid  his 
mattock  against  his  back,  and  tied  his  arms  to  it. 

They  led  him  up  a  very  steep  street,  and  up  another 
still,  all  the  crowd  following.  The  king's  palace-castle 


DERBA    AND  BARBARA*  121 

rose  towering  above  them  ;  but  they  stopped  before  they 
reached  it,  at  a  low-browed  door  in  a  great,  dull,  heavy- 
looking  building. 

The  city  marshal  opened  it  with  a  key  which  hung  at 
his  girdle,  and  ordered  Curdie  to  enter.  The  place 
within  was  dark  as  night,  and  while  he  was  feeling  his 
way  with  his  feet,  the  marshal  gave  him  a  rough  push. 
He  fell,  and  rolled  once  or  twice  over,  unable  to  help 
himself  because  his  hands  were  tied  behind  him. 

It  was  the  hour  of  the  magistrate's  second  and  more 
important  breakfast,  and  until  that  was  over  he  never 
found  himself  capable  of  attending  to  a  case  with  con- 
centration sufficient  to  the  distinguishing  of  the  side  upon 
which  his  own  advantage  lay ;  and  hence  was  this  respite 
for  Curdie,  with  time  to  collect  his  thoughts.  But  indeed 
he  had  very  few  to  collect,  for  all  he  had  to  do,  so  far  as 
he  could  see,  was  to  wait  for  what  would  come  next 
Neither  had  he  much  power  to  collect  them,  for  he  was 
a  good  deal  shaken. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  discovered,  to  his  great  relief, 
that,  from  the  projection  of  the  pick-end  of  his  mattock 
beyond  his  body,  the  fall  had  loosened  the  ropes  tied  round 
it.  He  got  one  hand  disengaged,  and  then  the  other ; 
and  presently  stood  free,  with  his  good  mattock  once 

more  in  right  serviceable  relation  to  his  arms  and  legs. 

11 


CHAPTER    XV L 

THE   MATTOCK. 

HILE  the  magistrate  reinvigorated  his  selfish- 
ness with  a  greedy  breakfast,  Curdie  found 
doing  nothing  in  the  dark  rather  wearisome 
work.  It  was  useless  attempting  to  think 
what  he  should  do  next,  seeing  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  was  presently  to  find  himself  were  altogether 
unknown  to  hirrx  So  he  began  to  think  about  his 
father  and  mother  in  their  little  cottage  home,  high 
in  the  clear  air  of  the  open  mountain-side,  and  the 
thought,  instead  of  making  his  dungeon  gloomier  by  the 
contrast,  made  a  light  in  his  soul  that  destroyed  the 
power  of  darkness  and  captivity.  But  he  was  at  length 
startled  from  his  waking  dream  by  a  swell  in  the  noise 
outside.  All  the  time  there  had  been  a  few  of  the  more 
idle  of  the  inhabitants  about  the  door,  but  they  had  been 
rather  quiet.  Now,  however,  the  sounds  of  feet  and  voices 
began  to  grow,  and  grew  so  rapidly  that  it  was  plain  a 


THE  MATTOCK.  123 

multitude  was  gathering.  For  the  people  of  Gwyntystorm 
always  gave  themselves  an  hour  of  pleasure  after  their 
second  breakfast,  and  what  greater  pleasure  could  they 
have  than  to  see  a  stranger  abused  by  the  officers  of 
justice  ?  The  noise  grew  till  it  was  like  the  roaring  of 
the  sea,  and  that  roaring  went  on  a  long  time,  for  the 
magistrate,  being  a  great  man,  liked  to  know  that  he  was 
waited  for :  it  added  to  the  enjoyment  of  his  breakfast, 
and,  indeed,  enabled  him  to  eat  a  little  more  after  he  had 
thought  his  powers  exhausted.  But  at  length,  in  the 
waves  of  the  human  noises  rose  a  bigger  wave,  and  by 
the  running  and  shouting  and  outcry,  Curdie  learned 
that  the  magistrate  was  approaching. 

Presently  came  the  sound  of  the  great  rusty  key  in  the 
lock,  which  yielded  with  groaning  reluctance ;  the  door 
was  thrown  back,  the  light  rushed  in,  and  with  it  came 
the  voice  of  the  city  marshal,  calling  upon  Curdie,  by 
many  legal  epithets  opprobrious,  to  come  forth  and  be 
tried  for  his  life,  inasmuch  as  he  had  raised  a  tumult  in 
his  majesty's  city  of  Gwyntystorm,  troubled  the  hearts  of 
the  king's  baker  and  barber,  and  slain  the  faithful  dogs 
of  his  majesty's  well-beloved  butchers. 

He  was  still  reading,  and  Curdie  was  still  seated  in  the 
brown  twilight  of  the  vault,  not  listening,  but  pondering 
with  himself  how  this  king  the  city  marshal  talked  of 
could  be  the  same  with  the  majesty  he  had  seen  ride 


124  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

away  on  his  grand  white  horse,  with  the  Princess  Irene 
on  a  cushion  before  him,  when  a  scream  of  agonized 
terror  arose  on  the  farthest  skirt  of  the  crowd,  and,  swifter 
than  flood  or  flame,  the  horror  spread  shrieking.  In  a 
moment  the  air  was  filled  with  hideous  howling,  cries  of 
unspeakable  dismay,  and  the  multitudinous  noise  of  run- 
ning feet  The  next  moment,  in  at  the  door  of  the  vault 
bounded  Lina,  her  two  green  eyes  flaming  yellow  as  sun- 
flowers, and  seeming  to  light  up  the  dungeon.  With  one 
spring  she  threw  herself  at  Curdie's  feet,  and  laid  her 
head  upon  them  panting.  Then  came  a  rush  of  two  or 
three  soldiers  darkening  the  doorway,  but  it  was  only  to 
lay  hold  of  the  key,  pull  the  door  to,  and  lock  it ;  so  that 
once  more  Curdie  and  Lina  were  prisoners  together. 

For  a  few  moments  Lina  lay  panting  hard :  it  is  breath- 
less work  leaping  and  roaring  both  at  once,  and  that  in  a 
way  to  scatter  thousands  of  people.  Then  she  jumped 
up,  and  began  snuffing  about  all  over  the  place;  and 
Curdie  saw  what  he  had  never  seen  before — two  faint  spots 
of  light  cast  from  her  eyes  upon  the  ground,  one  on  each 
side  of  her  snuffing  nose.  He  got  out  his  tinder-box — a 
miner  is  never  without  one — and  lighted  a  precious  bit  of 
candle  he  carried  in  a  division  of  it — just  for  a  moment, 
for  he  must  not  waste  it 

The  light  revealed  a  vault  without  any  window  or  other 
opening  than  the  door.  It  was  very  old  and  much 


THE  MATTOCK.  125 

neglected.  The  mortar  had  vanished  from  between  the 
stones,  and  it  was  half  filled  with  a  heap  of  all  sorts  of 
rubbish,  beaten  down  in  the  middle,  but  looser  at  the 
sides ;  it  sloped  from  the  door  to  the  foot  of  the  opposite 
wall :  evidently  for  a  long  time  the  vault  had  been  left 
open,  and  every  sort  of  refuse  thrown  into  it.  A  single 
minute  served  for  the  survey,  so  little  was  there  to  note. 

Meantime,  down  in  the  angle  between  the  back  wall 
and  the  base  of  the  heap  Lina  was  scratching  furiously 
with  all  the  eighteen  great  strong  claws  of  her  mighty 
feet. 

"  Ah,  ha ! "  said  Curdie  to  himself,  catching  sight  of 
her,  "if  only  they  will  leave  us  long  enough  to  our- 
selves ! " 

With  that  he  ran  to  the  door,  to  see  if  there  was  any 
fastening  on  the  inside.  There  was  none  :  in  all  its  long 
history  it  never  had  had  one.  But  a  few  blows  of  the 
right  sort,  now  from  the  one,  now  from  the  other  end  of 
his  mattock,  were  as  good  as  any  bolt,  for  they  so  ruined 
the  lock  that  no  key  could  ever  turn  in  it  again.  Those 

* 

who  heard  them  fancied  he  was  trying  to  get  out,  and 
laughed  spitefully.  As  soon  as  he  had  done,  he  extin- 
guished his  candle,  and  went  down  to  Lina. 

She  had  reached  the  hard  rock  which  formed  the  floor  of 
the  dungeon,  and  was  now  clearing  away  the  earth  a  little 
wider.  Presently  she  looked  up  in  his  face  and  whined, 


126  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

as  much  as  to  say,  "  My  paws  are  not  hard  enough  to 
get  any  further." 

"  Then  get  out  of  my  way,  Lina,"  said  Curdie,  "  and 
mind  you  keep  your  eyes  shining,  for  fear  I  should  hit 
you." 

So  saying,  he  heaved  his  mattock,  and  assailed  with 
the  hammer  end  of  it  the  spot  she  had  cleared. 

The  rock  was  very  hard,  but  when  it  did  break  it  broke 
in  good-sized  pieces.  Now  with  hammer,  now  with 
pick,  he  worked  till  he  was  weary,  then  rested,  and  then 
set  to  again.  He  could  not  tell  how  the  day  went,  as  he 
had  no  light  but  the  lamping  of  Lina's  eyes.  The  dark- 
ness hampered  him  greatly,  for  he  would  not  let  Lina 
come  close  enough  to  give  him  all  the  light  she  could, 
lest  he  should  strike  her.  So  he  had,  every  now  and 
then,  to  feel  with  his  hands  to  know  how  he  was  getting 
on,  and  to  discover  in  what  direction  to  strike :  the  exact 
spot  was  a  mere  imagination. 

He  was  getting  very  tired  and  hungry,  and  begin- 
ning to  lose  heart  a  little,  when  out  of  the  ground,  as  if 
he  had  struck  a  spring  of  it,  burst  a  dull,  gleamy,  lead- 
coloured  light,  and  the  next  moment  he  heard  a  hollow 
splash  and  echo.  A  piece  of  rock  had  fallen  out  of  the 
floor,  and  dropped  into  water  beneath.  Already  Lina, 
who  had  been  lying  a  few  yards  off  all  the  time  he 
worked,  was  on  her  feet  and  psering  through  the  hole. 


7 HE  MATTOCK.  127 

Curdle  got  down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  looked. 
They  were  over  what  seemed  a  natural  cave  in  the 
rock,  to  which  apparently  the  river  had  access,  for, 
at  a  great  distance  below,  a  faint  light  was  gleaming 
upon  water.  If  they  could  but  reach  it,  they  might  get 
out ;  but  even  if  it  was  deep  enough,  the  height  was  very 
dangerous.  The  first  thing,  whatever  might  follow,  was 
to  make  the  hole  larger.  It  was  comparatively  easy  to 
break  away  the  sides  of  it,  and  in  the  course  of  another 
hour  he  had  it  large  enough  to  get  through. 

And  now  he  must  reconnoitre.  He  took  the  rope  they 
had  tied  him  with — for  Curdie's  hindrances  were  always 
his  furtherance — and  fastened  one  end  of  it  by  a  slip-knot 
round  the  handle  of  his  pickaxe,  then  dropped  the  other 
end  through,  and  laid  the  pickaxe  so  that,  when  he  was 
through  himself,  and  hanging  on  to  the  edge,  he  could 
place  it  across  the  hole  to  support  him  on  the  rope.  This 
done,  he  took  the  rope  in  his  hands,  and,  beginning  to 
descend,  found  himself  in  a  narrow  cleft  widening  into  a 
cave.  His  rope  was  not  very  long,  and  would  not  do 
much  to  lessen  the  force  of  his  fall — he  thought  with  him- 
self— if  he  should  have  to  drop  into  the  water ;  but  he 
was  not  more  than  a  couple  of  yards  below  the  dungeon 
when  he  spied  an  opening  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
cleft :  it  might  be  but  a  shallow  hole,  or  it  might  lead 
them  out  He  dropped  himself  a  little  below  its  level, 


128  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

gave  the  rope  a  swing  by  pushing  his  feet  against  the  side 
of  the  cleft,  and  so  penduled  himself  into  it.  Then  he 
laid  a  stone  on  the  end  of  the  rope  that  it  should  not 
forsake  him,  called  to  Lina,  whose  yellow  eyes  were 
gleaming  over  the  mattock-grating  above,  to  watch  there 
till  he  returned,  and  went  cautiously  in. 

It  proved  a  passage,  level  for  some  distance,  then 
sloping  gently  up.  He  advanced  carefully,  feeling  his 
way  as  he  went.  At  length  he  was  stopped  by  a  door — a 
small  door,  studded  with  iron.  But  the  wood  was  in 
places  so  much  decayed  that  some  of  the  bolts  had 
dropped  out,  and  he  felt  sure  of  being  able  to  open  it. 
He  returned,  therefore,  to  fetch  Lina  and  his  mattock. 
Arrived  at  the  cleft,  his  strong  miner  arms  bore  him 
swiftly  up  along  the  rope  and  through  the  hole  into  the 
dungeon.  There  he  undid  the  rope  from  his  mattock, 
and  making  Lina  take  the  end  of  it  in  her  teeth,  and  get 
through  the  hole,  he  lowered  her — it  was  all  he  could  do, 
she  was  so  heavy.  When  she  came  opposite  the  passage, 
with  a  slight  push  of  her  tail  she  shot  herself  into  it,  and 
let  go  the  rope,  which  Curdie  drew  up.  Then  he  lighted 
his  candle  and  searching  in  the  rubbish  found  a  bit  of 
iron  to  take  the  place  of  his  pickaxe  across  the  hole. 
Then  he  searched  again  in  the  rubbish,  and  found  half  an 
old  shutter.  This  he  propped  up  leaning  a  little  over  the 
hole,  with  a  bit  of  stick,  and  heaped  against  the  back  of 


THE  MATTOCK. 


129 


it  a  quantity  of  the  loosened  earth.  Next  he  tied  his 
mattock  to  the  end  of  the  rope,  dropped  it,  and  let  it 
hang.  Last,  he  got  through  the  hole  himself,  and  pulled 
away  the  propping  stick,  so  that  the  shutter  fell  over  the 
hole  with  a  quantity  of  earth  on  the  top  of  it.  A  few 
motions  of  hand  over  hand,  and  he  swung  himself  and 
his  mattock  into  the  passage  beside  Lina.  There  he 
secured  the  end  of  the  rope,  and  they  went  on  together 
to  the  door. 


4    . 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  WINE-CELLAR. 

|E    lighted    his    candle     and    examined    it 
Decayed    and    broken   as    it    was,    it    was 


j^_-  strongly  secured  in  its  place  by  hinges  on 
the  one  side,  and  either  lock  or  bolt,  he 
could  not  tell  which,  on  the  other.  A  brief  use  of 
his  pocket-knife  was  enough  to  make  room  for  his 
hand  and  arm  to  get  through,  and  then  he  found  a 
great  iron  bolt — but  so  rusty  that  he  could  not  move  it. 
Lina  whimpered.  He  took  his  knife  again,  made  the 
hole  bigger,  and  stood  back.  In  she  shot  her  small  head 
and  long  neck,  seized  the  bolt  with  her  teeth,  and  dragged 
it  grating  and  complaining  back.  A  push  then  opened 
the  door.  It  was  at  the  foot  of  a  short  flight  of  steps. 
They  ascended,  and  at  the  top  Curdie  found  himself  in  a 
space  which,  from  the  echo  to  his  stamp,  appeared  of 
some  size,  though  of  what  sort  he  could  not  at  first  tell, 
for  his  hands,  feeling  about,  came  upon  nothing.  Pre- 


"  Curdle  w  s  just  setting  out  lo  explore  the  place  when  he.  heard  step 
coming  down  a  stair.'*  Page  131. 


THE  WINE-CELLAR.  131 

sently,  however,  they  fell  on  a  great  thing :  it  was  a  wine- 
cask.  He  was  just  setting  out  to  explore  the  place  by  a 
thorough  palpation,  when  he  heard  steps  coming  down 
a  stair.  He  stood  still,  not  knowing  whether  the  door 
would  open  an  inch  from  his  nose  or  twenty  yards  be- 
hind his  back.  It  did  neither.  He  heard  the  key  turn 
in  the  lock,  and  a  stream  of  light  shot  in,  ruining  the 
darkness,  about  fifteen  yards  away  on  his  right. 

A  man  carrying  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  large  silver 
flagon  in  the  other,  entered,  and  came  towards  him.  The 
light  revealed  a  row  of  huge  wine-casks,  that  stretched 
away  into  the  darkness  of  the  other  end  of  the  long  vault. 
Curdie  retreated  into  the  recess  of  the  stair,  and  peeping 
round  the  corner  of  it,  watched  him,  thinking  what  he 
could  do  to  prevent  him  from  locking  them  in. 
He  came  on  and  on,  until  Curdie  feared  he  would  pass 
the  recess  and  see  them.  He  was  just  preparing  to  rush 
out,  and  master  him  before  he  should  give  alarm,  not 
in  the  least  knowing  what  he  should  do  next,  when,  to  his 
relief,  the  man  stopped  at  the  third  cask  from  where  he 
stood.  He  set  down  his  light  on  the  top  of  it,  removed 
what  seemed  a  large  vent-peg,  and  poured  into  the  cask 
a  quantity  of  something  from  the  flagon.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  next  cask,  drew  some  wine,  rinsed  the 
flagon,  threw  the  wine  away,  drew  and  rinsed  and  threw 
away  again,  then  drew  and  drank,  draining  to  the  bottom. 


132  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

Last  of  all,  he  filled  the  flagon  from  the  cask  he  had  first 
visited,  replaced  then  the  vent-peg,  took  up  his  candle, 
and  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  There  is  something  wrong  here  ! "  thought  Curdie, 

"  Speak  to  him,  Lina,"  he  whispered. 

The  sudden  howl  she  gave  made  Curdie  himself  start 
and  tremble  for  a  moment.  As  to  the  man,  he  answered 
Lina's  with  another  horrible  howl,  forced  from  him  by 
the  convulsive  shudder  of  every  muscle  of  his  body,  then 
reeled  gasping  to  and  fro,  and  dropped  his  candle.  But 
just  as  Curdie  expected  to  see  him  fall  dead  he  recovered 
himself,  and  flew  to  the  door,  through  which  he  darted, 
leaving  it  open  behind  him.  The  moment  he  ran,  Curdie 
stepped  out,  picked  up  the  candle  still  alight,  sped  after 
him  to  the  door,  drew  out  the  key,  and  then  returned  to 
the  stair'  and  waited.  In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  the 
sound  of  many  feet  and  voices.  Instantly  he  turned  the 
tap  of  the  cask  from  which  the  man  had  been  drinking, 
set  the  candle  beside  it  on  the  floor,  went  down  the  steps 
and  out  of  the  little  door,  followed  by  Lina,  and  closed 
it  behind  them. 

Through  the  hole  in  it  he  could  see  a  little,  and  hear 
all.  He  could  see  how  the  light  of  many  candles  filled 
the  place,  and  could  hear  how  some  two  dozen  feet  ran 
hither  and  thither  through  the  echoing  cellar ;  he  could 
hear  the  clash  of  iron,  probably  spits  and  pokers,  now  and 


THE  WINE-CELLAR.  133 

then  ;  and  at  last  heard  how,  finding  nothing  remarkable 
except  the  best  wine  running  to  waste,  they  all  turned  on 
the  butler,  and  accused  him  of  having  fooled  them  with  a 
drunken  dream.  He  did  his  best  to  defend  himself, 
appealing  to  the  evidence  of  their  own  senses  that  he  was 
as  sober  as  they  were.  They  replied  that  a  fright  was  no 
less  a  fright  that  the  cause  was  imaginary,  and  a  dream 
no  less  a  dream  that  the  fright  had  waked  him  from  it. 
When  he  discovered,  and  triumphantly  adduced  as 
corroboration,  that  the  key  was  gone  from  the  door,  they 
said  it  merely  showed  how  drunk  he  had  been — either 
that  or  how  frightened,  for  he  had  certainly  dropped  it. 
In  vain  he  protested  that  he  had  never  taken  it  out  of  the 
lock — that  he  never  did  when  he  went  in,  and  certainly 
had  not  this  time  stopped  to  do  so  when  he  came  out ; 
they  asked  him  why  he  had  to  go  to  the  cellar  at  such  a 
time  of  the  day,  and  said  it  was  because  he  had  already 
drunk  all  the  wine  that  was  left  from  dinner.  He  said  if  he 
had  dropped  the  key,  the  key  was  to  be  found,  and  they 
must  help  him  to  find  it  They  told  him  they  wouldn't 
move  a  peg  for  him.  He  declared,  with  much  language, 
he  would  have  them  all  turned  out  of  the  king's  service. 
They  said  they  would  swear  he  was  drunk.  And  so 
positive  were  they  about  it,  that  at  last  the  butler  himself 
began  to  think  whether  it  was  possible  they  could  be  in 
the  right.  For  he  knew  that  sometimes  when  he  had 

12 


134  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

been  drunk  he  fancied  things  had  taken  place  which  he 
found  afterwards  could  not  have  happened.  Certain  of 
his  fellow-servants,  however,  had  all  the  time  a  doubt 
whether  the  cellar  goblin  had  not  appeared  to  him,  or  at 
least  roared  at  him,  to  protect  the  wine.  In  any  case 
nobody  wanted  to  find  the  key  for  him ;  nothing  could 
please  them  better  than  that  the  door  of  the  wine-cellar 
should  never  more  be  locked.  By  degrees  the  hubbub 
died  away,  and  they  departed,  not  even  pulling  to  the 
door,  for  there  was  neither  handle  nor  latch  to  it 

As  soon  as  they  were  gone,  Curdie  returned,  knowing 
now  that  they  were  in  the  wine-cellar  of  the  palace,  as, 
indeed,  he  had  suspected.  Finding  a  pool  of  wine  in  a 
hollow  of  the  floor,  Lina  lapped  it  up  eagerly :  she  had 
had  no  breakfast,  and  was  now  very  thirsty  as  well  as 
hungry.  Her  master  was  in  a  similar  plight,  for  he  had 
but  just  begun  to  eat  when  the  magistrate  arrived 
with  the  soldiers.  If  only  they  were  all  in  bed,  he 
thought,  that  he  might  find  his  way  to  the  larder !  For 
he  said  to  himself  that,  as  he  was  sent  there  by  the  young 
princess's  great-great-grandmother  to  serve  her  or  her 
father  in  some  way,  surely  he  must  have  a  right  to  his 
food  in  the  palace,  without  which  he  could  do  nothing. 
He  would  go  at  once  and  reconnoitre. 

So  he  crept  up  the  stair  that  led  from  the  cellar.  At 
the  top  was  a  door,  opening  on  a  long  passage,  dimly 


THE  WINE-CELLAR.  135 

lighted  by  a  lamp.  He  told  Lina  to  lie  down  upon  the 
stair  while  he  went  on.  At  the  end  of  the  passage  he 
found  a  door  ajar,  and,  peeping  through,  saw  right  into  a 
great  stone  hall,  where  a  huge  fire  was  blazing,  and  through 
which  men  in  the  king's  livery  were  constantly  coming  and 
going.  Some  also  in  the  same  livery  were  lounging  about 
the  fire.  He  noted  that  their  colours  were  the  same  with 
those  he  himself,  as  king's  miner,  wore ;  but  from  what 
he  had  seen  and  heard  of  the  habits  of  the  place,  he 
could  not  hope  they  would  treat  him  the  better  for  that. 

The  one  interesting  thing  at  the  moment,  however,  was 
the  plentiful  supper  with  which  the  table  was  spread.  It 
was  something  at  least  to  stand  in  sight  of  food,  and  he 
was  unwilling  to  turn  his  back  on  the  prospect  so  long  as 
a  share  in  it  was  not  absolutely  hopeless.  Peeping  thus, 
he  soon  made  up  his  mind  that  if  at  any  moment  the 
hall  should  be  empty,  he  would  at  that  moment  rush  in 
and  attempt  to  carry  off  a  dish.  That  he  might  lose  no 
time  by  indecision,  he  selected  a  large  pie  upon  which  to 
pounce  instantaneously.  But  after  he  had  watched  for 
some  minutes,  it  did  not  seem  at  all  likely  the  chance 
would  arrive  before  supper-time,  and  he  was  just  about  to 
turn  away  and  rejoin  Lina,  when  he  saw  that  there  was  not 
a  person  in  the  place.  Curdie  never  made  up  his  mind 
and  then  hesitated.  He  darted  in,  seized  the  pie,  and 
bore  it,  swiftly  and  noiselessly,  to  the  cellar  stair. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   KING'S   KITCHEN. 

'ACK  to  the  cellar  Curdle  and  Lina  sped 
with  their  booty,  where,  seated  on  the 
steps,  Curdle  lighted  his  bit  of  candle  for 
a  moment.  A  very  little  bit  it  was  now, 
but  they  did  not  waste  much  of  it  in  examination 
of  the  pie;  that  they  effected  by  a  more  summary 
process.  Curdie  thought  it  the  nicest  food  he  had 
ever  tasted,  and  between  them  they  soon  ate  it  up. 
Then  Curdie  would  have  thrown  the  dish  along  with  the 
bones  into  the  water,  that  there  might  be  no  traces  of 
them ;  but  he  thought  of  his  mother,  and  hid  it  instead ; 
and  the  very  next  minute  they  wanted  it  to  draw  some 
wine  into.  He  was  careful  it  should  be  from  the  cask  of 
which  he  had  seen  the  butler  drink.  Then  they  sat  down 
again  upon  the  steps,  and  waited  until  the  house  should 
be  quiet  For  he  was  there  to  do  something,  and  if  it 
did  not  come  to  him  in  the  cellar,  he  must  go  to  meet 


THE  KING'S  KITCHEN.  137 

it  in  other  places.  Therefore,  lest  he  snould  fall 
asleep,  he  set  the  end  of  the  helve  of  his  mattock  on  the 
ground,  and  seated  himself  on  the  cross  part,  leaning 
against  the  wall,  so  that  as  long  as  he  kept  awake  he 
should  rest,  but  the  moment  he  began  to  fall  asleep  he 
must  fall  awake  instead.  He  quite  expected  some 
of  the  servants  would  visit  the  cellar  again  that 
night,  but  whether  it  was  that  they  were  afraid 
of  each  other,  or  believed  more  of  the  butler's 
story  than  they  had  chosen  to  allow,  not  one  of 
them  appeared. 

When  at  length  he  thought  he  might  venture,  he 
shouldered  his  mattock  and  crept  up  the  stair.  The 
lamp  was  out  in  the  passage,  but  he  could  not  miss  his 
way  to  the  servants'  hall.  Trusting  to  Lina's  quickness 
in  concealing  herself,  he  took  her  with  him. 

When  they  reached  the  hall  they  found  it  quiet  and 
nearly  dark.  The  last  of  the  great  fire  was  glowing  red, 
but  giving  little  light.  Curdie  stood  and  warmed  him- 
self for  a  few  moments :  miner  as  he  was,  he  had  found 
the  cellar  cold  to  sit  in  doing  nothing;  and  standing 
thus  he  thought  of  looking  if  there  were  any  bits  of 
candle  about.  There  were  many  candlesticks  on  the 
supper-table,  but  to  his  disappointment  and  indignation 
their  candles  seemed  to  have  been  all  left  to  burn  out, 
and  some  of  them,  indeed,  he  found  still  hot  in  the  neck. 


.138  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

Presently,  one  after  another,  he  came  upon  seven  men 
fast  asleep,  most  of  them  upon  tables,  one  in  a  chair,  and 
one  on  the  floor.  They  seemed,  from  their  shape  and 
colour,  to  have  eaten  and  drunk  so  much  that  they  might 
be  burned  alive  without  waking.  He  grasped  the  hand 
of  each  in  succession,  and  found  two  ox-hoofs,  three 
pig-hoofs,  one  concerning  which  he  could  not  be  sure 
whether  it  was  the  hoof  of  a  donkey  or  a  pony, 
and  one  dog's  paw.  "A  nice  set  of  people  to 
be  about  a  king!"  thought  Curdie  to  himself,  and 
turned  again  to  his  candle  hunt.  He  did  at  last 
find  two  or  three  little  pieces,  and  stowed  them  away 
in  his  pockets. 

They  now  left  the  hall  by  another  door,  and  entered 
a  short  passage,  which  led  them  to  the  huge  kitchen, 
vaulted,  and  black  with  smoke.  There  too  the  fire  was 
still  burning,  so  that  he  was  able  to  see  a  little  of  the  state 
of  things  in  this  quarter  also.  The  place  was  dirty  and 
disorderly.  In  a  recess,  on  a  heap  of  brushwood,  lay  a 
kitchenmaid,  with  a  table-cover  around  her,  and  a  skillet 
in  her  hand :  evidently  she  too  had  been  drinking.  In 
another  corner  lay  a  page,  and  Curdie  noted  how  like  his 
dress  was  to  his  own.  In  the  cinders  before  the  hearth 
were  huddled  three  dogs  and  five  cats,  all  fast  asleep, 
while  the  rats  were  running  about  the  floor.  Curdie's 
heart  ached  to  think  of  the  lovely  child-princess  living 


THE  KING'S  KITCHEN.  139 

over  such  a  sty.  The  mine  was  a  paradise  to  a  palace 
with  such  servants  in  it 

Leaving  the  kitchen,  he  got  into  the  region  of  the 
sculleries.  There  horrible  smells  were  wandering  about, 
like  evil  spirits  that  come  forth  with  the  darkness. 
He  lighted  a  candle — but  only  to  see  ugly  sights.  Every- 
where was  filth  and  disorder.  Mangy  turn-spit  dogs  were 
lying  about,  and  gray  rats  were  gnawing  at  refuse  in  the 
sinks.  It  was  like  a  hideous  dream.  He  felt  as  if  he 
should  never  get  out  of  it,  and  longed  for  one  glimpse  of 
his  mother's  poor  little  kitchen,  so  clean  and  bright  and 
airy.  Turning  from  it  at  last  in  miserable  disgust,  he 
almost  ran  back  through  the  kitchen,  re-entered  the  hall, 
and  crossed  it  to  another  door. 

It  opened  upon  a  wider  passage,  leading  to  an  arch  in 
a  stately  corridor,  all  its  length  lighted  by  lamps  in 
niches.  At  the  end  of  it  was  a  large  and  beautiful  hall, 
with  great  pillars.  There  sat  three  men  in  the  royal 
livery,  fast  asleep,  each  in  a  great  arm-chair,  with  his  feet 
on  a  huge  footstool.  They  looked  like  fools  dreaming 
themselves  kings ;  and  Lina  looked  as  if  she  longed  to 
throttle  them.  At  one  side  of  the  hall  was  the  grand 
staircase,  and  they  went  up. 

Everything  that  now  met  Curdie's  eyes  was  rich — not 
glorious  like  the  splendours  of  the  mountain  cavern,  but 
rich  and  soft — except  where,  now  and  then,  some  rough 


140  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

old  rib  of  the  ancient  fortress  came  through,  hard  and 
discoloured.  Now  some  dark  bare  arch  of  stone,  now 
some  rugged  and  blackened  pillar,  now  some  huge  beam, 
brown  with  the  smoke  and  dust  of  centuries,  looked  like 
a  thistle  in  the  midst  of  daisies,  or  a  rock  in  a  smooth 
lawn. 

They  wandered  about  a  good  while,  again  and  again 
finding  themselves  where  they  had  been  before.  Gradually, 
however,  Curdie  was  gaining  some  idea  of  the  place.  By- 
and-by  Lina  began  to  look  frightened,  and  as  they  went 
on  Curdie  saw  that  she  looked  more  and  more  frightened. 
Now,  by  this  time  he  had  come  to  understand  that  what 
made  her  look  frightened  was  always  the  fear  of  frighten- 
ing, and  he  therefore  concluded  they  must  be  drawing 
nigh  to  somebody.  At  last,  in  a  gorgeously-painted 
gallery,  he  saw  a  curtain  of  crimson,  and  on  the  curtain  a 
royal  crown  wrought  in  silks  and  stones.  He  felt  sure 
this  must  be  the  king's  chamber,  and  it  was  here  he  was 
wanted;  or,  if  it  was  not  the  place  he  was  bound  for, 
something  would  meet  him  and  turn  him  aside ;  for  he 
had  come  to  think  that  so  long  as  a  man  wants  to  do 
right  he  may  go  where  he  can :  when  he  can  go  no  further, 
then  it  is  not  the  way.  "Only,"  said  his  father,  in 
assenting  to  the  theory,  "he  must  really  want  to  do  right, 
and  not  merely  fancy  he  does.  He  must  want  it  with  his 
heart  and  will,  and  not  with  his  rag  of  a  tongue." 


THE  KING'S  KITCHEN. 


141 


So  he  gently  lifted  the  corner  of  the  curtain,  and  there 
behind  it  was  a  half-open  door.  He  entered,  and  the 
moment  he  was  in,  Lina  stretched  herself  along  the 
threshold  between  the  curtain  and  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   KING'S   CHAMBER. 

E  found  himself  in  a  large  room,  dimly 
lighted  by  a  silver  lamp  that  hung  from 
the  ceiling.  Far  at  the  other  end  was 
a  great  bed,  surrounded  with  dark  heavy 
curtains.  He  went  softly  towards  it,  his  heart  beating 
fast.  It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  alone  in  the  king's 
chamber  at  the  dead  of  night.  To  gain  courage  he 
had  to  remind  himself  of  the  beautiful  princess  who 
had  sent  him.  But  when  he  was  about  half-way  to 
the  bed,  a  figure  appeared  from  the  farther  side  of  it, 
and  came  towards  him,  with  a  hand  raised  warningly. 
He  stood  still.  The  light  was  dim,  and  he  could  dis- 
tinguish little  more  than  the  outline  of  a  young  girl 
But  though  the  form  he  saw  was  much  taller  than 
the  princess  he  remembered,  he  never  doubted  it  was 
she.  For  one  thing,  he  knew  that  most  girls  would  have 
been  frightened  to  see  him  there  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 


THE  KING'S  CHAMBER.  143 

but  like  a  true  princess,  and  the  princess  he  used  to 
know,  she  walked  straight  on  to  meet  him.  As  she  came 
she  lowered  the  hand  she  had  lifted,  and  laid  the  fore- 
finger of  it  upon  her  lips.  Nearer  and  nearer,  quite 
near,  close  up  to  him  she  came,  then  stopped,  and  stood 
a  moment  looking  at  him. 

"  You  are  Curdie,"  she  said. 

"  And  you  are  the  Princess  Irene,"  he  returned. 

"  Then  we  know  each  other  still,"  she  said,  with  a  sad 
smile  of  pleasure.  "  You  will  help  me." 

"  That  I  will,"  answered  Curdie.  He  did  not  say,  "If  I 
can  ; "  for  he  knew  that  what  he  was  sent  to  do,  that  he 
could  do.  "  May  I  kiss  your  hand,  little  princess  ?  " 

She  was  only  between  nine  and  ten,  though  indeed  she 
looked  several  years  older,  and  her  eyes  almost  those  of 
a  grown  woman,  for  she  had  had  terrible  trouble  of  late. 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  am  not  the  little  princess  any  more.  I  have  grown 
up  since  I  saw  you  last,  Mr.  Miner." 

The  smile  wl.ich  accompanied  the  words  had  in  it  a 
strange  mixture  of  playfulness  and  sadness. 

"  So  I  see,  Miss  Princess,"  returned  Curdie ;  "  and 
therefore,  being  more  of  a  princess,  you  are  the  more 
my  princess.  Here  I  am,  sent  by  your  great-great-grand- 
mother, to  be  your  servant. — May  I  ask  why  you  aie 
up  so  late,  princess  ?  " 


144  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  Because  my  father  wakes  so  frightened,  and  I  don't 
know  what  he  would  to  if  he  didn't  find  me  by  his  bed- 
side. There  !  he's  waking  now." 

She  darted  off  to  the  side  of  the  bed  she  had  come 
from.  Curdie  stood  where  he  was. 

A  voice  altogether  unlike  what  he  remembered  of  the 
mighty,  noble  king  on  his  white  horse  came  from  the 
bed,  thin,  feeble,  hollow,  and  husky,  and  in  tone  like  that 
of  a  petulant  child  : — 

"  I  will  not,  I  will  not.  I  am  a  king,  and  I  will  be  a 
king.  I  hate  you  and  despise  you,  and  you  shall  not 
torture  me  ! " 

"  Never  mind  them,  father  dear,"  said  the  princess. 
"I  am  here,  and  they  shan't  touch  you.  They  dare  not, 
you  know,  so  long  as  you  defy  them." 

"  They  want  my  crown,  darling  ;  and  I  can't  give  them 
my  crown,  can  I  ?  for  what  is  a  king  without  his  crown?'' 

"  They  shall  never  have  your  crown,  my  king,"  said 
Irene.  "  Here  it  is — all  safe,  you  see.  I  am  watching  it 
for  you." 

Curdie  drew  near  the  bed  on  the  other  side.  There 
lay  the  grand  old  king — he  looked  grand  still,  and  twenty 
years  older.  His  body  was  pillowed  high  ;  his  beard 
descended  long  and  white  over  the  crimson  coverlid ; 
and  his  crown,  its  diamonds  and  emeralds  gleaming  in 
the  twilight  of  the  curtains,  lay  in  front  of  him,  his  long, 


THE  KING'S   CHAMBER.  145 

thin  old  hands  folded  round  the  rigol,  and  the  ends 
of  his  beard  straying  among  the  lovely  stones.  His 
face  was  like  that  of  a  man  who  had  died  fighting  nobly ; 
but  one  thing  made  it  dreadful :  his  eyer,,  while  they 
moved  about  as  if  searching  in  this  direction  and  in  that, 
looked  more  dead  than  his  face.  He  saw  neither  his 
daughter  nor  his  crown  :  it  was  the  voice  of  the  one  and 
the  touch  of  the  other  that  comforted  him.  He  kept 
murmuring  what  seemed  words,  but  was  unintelligible  to 
Curdie,  although,  to  judge  from  the  look  of  Irene's  face, 
she  learned  and  concluded  from  it. 

By  degrees  his  voice  sank  away  and  the  murmuring 
ceased,  although  still  his  lips  moved.  Thus  lay  the  old 
king  on  his  bed,  slumbering  with  his  crown  between  his 
hands  ;  on  one  side  of  him  stood  a  lovely  little  maiden, 
with  blue  eyes,  and  brown  hair  going  a  little  back  from 
her  temples,  as  if  blown  by  a  wind  that  no  one  felt  but 
herself;  and  on  the  other  a  stalwart  young  miner,  with 
his  mattock  over  his  shoulder.  Stranger  sight  still  was 
Lina  lying  along  the  threshold — only  nobody  saw  her  just 
then. 

A  moment  more  and  the  king's  lips  ceased  to  move. 
His  breathing  had  grown  regular  and  quiet.  The 
princess  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  came  round  to  Curdie. 

"We  can  talk  a  little   now,"   she  said,   leading  him 

towards  the  middle  of  the  room.      "  My  father  will  sleep 

II 


I4«  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

now  till  the  doctor  wakes  him  to  give  him  his  medicine. 
It  is  not  really  medicine,  though,  but  wine.  Nothing  but 
that,  the  doctor  says,  could  have  kept  him  so  long  alive. 
He  always  comes  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  give  it 
him  with  his  own  hands.  But  it  makes  me  cry  to  see 
him  waked  up  when  so  nicely  asleep." 

"  What  sort  of  man  is  your  doctor  ?  "  asked  Curdie. 

"  Oh,  such  a  dear,  good,  kind  gentleman  ! "  replied  the 
princess.  "  He  speaks  so  softly,  and  is  so  sorry  for  his 
dear  king  !  He  will  be  here  presently,  and  you  shall  see 
for  yourself.  You  will  like  him  very  much." 

"  Has  your  king-father  been  long  ill  ? "  asked 
Curdie. 

"  A  whole  year  now,"  she  replied.  "  Did  you  not 
know?  That's  how  your  mother  never  got  the  red 
petticoat  my  father  promised  her.  The  lord  chancellor 
told  me  that  not  only  Gwyntystorm  but  the  whole  land 
was  mourning  over  the  illness  of  the  good  man." 

Now  Curdie  himself  had  not  heard  a  word  of  his 
majesty's  illness,  and  had  no  ground  for  believing  that  a 
single  soul  in  any  place  he  had  visited  on  his  journey 
had  heard  of  it.  Moreover,  although  mention  had  been 
made  of  his  majesty  again  and  again  in  his  hearing  since 
he  came  to  Gwyntystorm,  never  once  had  he  heard  an 
allusion  to  the  state  of  his  health.  And  now  it  dawned 
upon  him  also  that  he  had  never  heard  the  least  expres- 


THE  KING'S  CHAMBER.  147 

sion  of  love  to  him.  But  just  for  the  time  he  thought 
it  better  to  say  nothing  on  either  point. 

"  Does  the  king  wander  like  this  every  night  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Every  night,"  answered  Irene,  shaking  her  head 
mournfully.  "  That  is  why  I  never  go  to  bed  at  night. 
He  is  better  during  the  day — a  little,  and  then  I  sleep — 
in  the  dressing-room  there,  to  be  with  him  in  a  moment 
if  he  should  call  me.  It  is  so  sad  he  should  have  only  me 
and  not  my  mamma!  A  princess  is  nothing  to  a  queen  !" 

"  I  wish  he  would  like  me,"  said  Curdie,  "  for  then 
I  might  watch  by  him  at  night,  and  let  you  go  to  bed, 
princess." 

"  Don't  you  know  then  ?  "  returned  Irene,  in  wonder^ 
"  How  was  it  you  came  ? — Ah  !  you  said  my  grandmother 
sent  you.  But  I  thought  you  knew  that  he  wanted  you." 

And  again  she  opened  wide  her  blue  stars. 

"  Not  I,"  said  Curdie,  also  bewildered,  but  very  glad. 

"  He  used  to  be  constantly  saying — he  was  not  so  ill 
then  as  he  is  now — that  he  wished  he  had  you  about 
him." 

"  And  I  never  to  know  it ! "  said  Curdie,  with  dis- 
pleasure. 

"  The  master  of  the  horse  told  papa's  own  secretary 
that  he  had  written  to  the  miner-general  to  find  you  and 
send  you  up ;  but  the  miner-general  wrote  back  to  the 


148  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

master  of  the  horse,  and  he  told  the  secretary,  and  the 
secretary  told  my  father,  that  they  had  searched  every 
mine  in  the  kingdom  and  could  hear  nothing  of  you. 
My  father  gave  a  great  sigh,  and  said  he  feared  the 
goblins  had  got  you  after  all,  and  your  father  and  mother 
were  dead  of  grief.  And  he  has  never  mentioned  you  since, 
except  when  wandering.  I  cried  very  much.  But  one 
of  my  grandmother's  pigeons  with  its  white  wing  flashed 
a  message  to  me  through  the  window  one  day,  and  then 
I  knew  that  my  Curdie  wasn't  eaten  by  the  goblins,  for 
my  grandmother  wouldn't  have  taken  care  of  him  one 
time  to  let  him  be  eaten  the  next.  Where  were  you, 
Curdie,  that  they  couldn't  find  you  ?  " 

"  We  will  talk  about  that  another  time,  when  we  are 
not  expecting  the  doctor,"  said  Curdie. 

As  he  spoke,  his  eyes  fell  upon  something  shining  on 
the  table  under  the  lamp.  His  heart  gave  a  great  throb, 
and  he  went  nearer. — Yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt ; — it 
was  the  same  flagon  that  the  butler  had  filled  in  the  wine- 
cellar. 

"  It  looks  worse  and  worse !"  he  said  to  himself,  and 
went  back  to  Irene,  where  she  stood  half  dreaming. 

"  When  will  the  doctor  be  here  ? "  he  asked  once 
more — this  time  hurriedly. 

The  question  was  answered — not  by  the  princess,  but 
by  something  which  that  instant  tumbled  heavily  into 


THE  KING'S  CHAMBER.  149 

the  room.  Curdie  flew  towards  it  in  vague  terror  about 
Lina. 

On  the  floor  lay  a  little  round  man,  puffing  and 
blowing,  and  uttering  incoherent  language.  Curdie 
thought  of  his  mattock,  and  ran  and  laid  it  aside. 

"  Oh,  dear  Dr.  Kelman ! "  cried  the  princess,  running 
up  and  taking  hold  of  his  arm ;  "  I  am  so  sorry  ! "  She 
pulled  and  pulled,  but  might  almost  as  well  have  tried  to 
set  up  a  cannon-ball.  "  I  hope  you  have  not  hurt  your- 
self?" 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  the  doctor,  trying  to 
smile  and  to  rise  both  at  once,  but  finding  it  impossible 
to  do  either. 

"  If  he  slept  on  the  floor  he  would  be  late  for  break- 
fast,"  said  Curdie  to  himself,  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
help  him. 

But  when  he  took  hold  of  it,  Curdie  very  nearly  let 
him  fall  again,  for  what  he  held  was  not  even  a  foot :  it 
was  the  belly  of  a  creeping  thing.  He  managed, 
however,  to  hold  both  his  peace  and  his  grasp,  and 
pulled  the  doctor  roughly  on  his  legs — such  as  they 
were. 

"  Your  royal  highness  has  rather  a  thick  mat  at  the 
door,"  said  the  doctor,  patting  his  palms  together.  "  I 
hope  my  awkwardness  may  not  have  startled  his 
majesty." 


ISO  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

While  he  talked  Curdle  went  to  the  door :  Lina  was 
not  there. 

The  doctor  approached  the  bed. 

"  And  how  has  my  beloved  king  slept  to-night  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No  better,"  answered  Irene,  with  a  mournful  shake  of 
her  head. 

"  Ah,  that  is  very  well ! "  returned  the  doctor,  his  fall 
seeming  to  have  muddled  either  his  words  or  his  mean- 
ing. "  We  must  give  him  his  wine,  and  then  he  will  be 
better  still" 

Curdie  darted  at  the  flagon,  and  lifted  it  high,  as 
if  he  had  expected  to  find  it  full,  but  had  found  it 
empty. 

"  That  stupid  butler !  I  heard  them  say  he  was 
drunk  ! "  he  cried  in  a  loud  whisper,  and  was  gliding 
irom  the  room. 

"Come  here  with  that  flagon,  you  !  page!"  cried  the 
doctor. 

Curdie  came  a  few  steps  towards  him  with  the  flagon 
dangling  from  his  hand,  heedless  of  the  gushes  that  fell 
noiseless  on  the  thick  carpet. 

"Are  you  aware,  young  man,"  said  the  doctor,  "that 
it  is  not  ever)'  wine  can  do  his  majesty  the 
benefit  I  intend  he  should  derive  from  my  prescrip- 
tion?" 


THE  KING'S  CHAMBER.  151 

"  Quite  aware,  sir,"  answered  Curdie.  "  The  wine 
for  his  majesty's  use  is  in  the  third  cask  from  the 
corner." 

"  Fly,  then,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  satisfied. 

Curdie  stopped  outside  the  curtain  and  blew  an  audible 
breath — no  more  :  up  came  Lina  noiseless  as  a  shadow. 
He  showed  her  the  flagon. 

"  The  cellar,  Lina  :  go,"  he  said. 

She  galloped  away  on  her  soft  feet,  and  Curdie  had 
indeed  to  fly  to  keep  up  with  her.  Not  once  did  she 
make  even  a  dubious  turn.  From  the  king's  gorgeous 
chamber  to  the  cold  cellar  they  shot.  Curdie  dashed  the 
wine  down  the  back"  stair,  rinsed  the  flagon  out  as  he  had 
seen  the  butler  do,  filled  it  from  the  cask  of  which  he  had 
seen  the  butler  drink,  and  hastened  with  it  up  again  to 
the  king's  room. 

The  little  doctor  took  it,  poured  out  a  full  glass,  smelt, 
but  did  not  taste  it,  and  set  it  down.  Then  he  leaned 
over  the  bed,  shouted  in  the  king's  ear,  blew  upon 
his  eyes,  and  pinched  his  arm :  Curdie  .thought  he  saw 
him  run  something  bright  into  it.  At  last  the  king 
half  woke.  The  doctor  seized  the  glass,  raised  his 
head,  poured  the  wine  down  his  throat,  and  let  his 
head  fall  back  on  the  pillow  again.  Tenderly  wiping  his 
beard,  and  bidding  the  princess  good-night  in  paternal 
tones,  he  then  took  his  leave.  Curdie  would  gladly  have 


152 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 


driven  his  pick  into  his  head,  but  that  was  not  in  his 
commission,  and  he  let  him  go. 

The  little  round  man  looked  very  carefully  to  his  feet 
as  he  crossed  the  threshold. 

"That  attentive  fellow  of  a  page  has  removed  the 
mat,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  walked  along  the 
corridor.  *'  I  must  remember  him." 


CHAPTER    XX. 

C  O  U  N  T  E  R-P  LOTTING. 


was  already  sufficiently  enlightened 
as  to  how  things  were  going,  to  see  that 
he  must  have  the  princess  of  one  mind 
with  him,  and  they  must  work  together. 
It  was  clear  that  amongst  those  about  the  king  there 
was  a  plot  against  him  :  for  one  thing,  they  had 
agreed  in  a  lie  concerning  himself;  and  it  was  plain  also 
that  the  doctor  was  working  out  a  design  against  the 
health  and  reason  of  his  majesty,  rendering  the  question 
of  his  life  a  matter  of  little  moment.  It  was  in  itself 
sufficient  to  justify  the  worst  fears,  that  the  people  outside 
the  palace  were  ignorant  of  his  majesty's  condition  :  he 
believed  those  inside  it  also  —  the  butler  excepted  —  were 
ignorant  of  it  as  well.  Doubtless  his  majesty's  council- 
lors desired  to  alienate  the  hearts  of  his  subjects  from 
their  sovereign.  Curdie's  idea  was  that  they  intended 
to  kill  the  king,  marry  the  princess  to  one  of  them- 


151  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

selves,  and  found  a  new  dynasty ;  but  whatever  their 
purpose,  there  was  treason  in  the  palace  of  the  worst  sort : 
they  were  making  and  keeping  the  king  incapable,  in 
order  to  effect  that  purpose.  The  first  thing  to  be  seen 
to  therefore  was,  that  his  majesty  should  neither  eat 
morsel  nor  drink  drop  of  anything  prepared  for  him  in 
the  palace.  Could  this  have  been  managed  without  the 
princess,  Curdie  would  have  preferred  leaving  her  in 
ignorance  of  the  horrors  from  which  he  sought  to  deliver 
her.  He  feared  also  the  danger  of  her  knowledge 
betraying  itself  to  the  evil  eyes  about  her ;  but  it  must  be 
risked — and  she  had  always  been  a  wise  child. 

Another  thing  was  clear  to  him — that  with  such  traitors 
no  terms  of  honour  were  either  binding  or  possible,  and 
that,  short  of  lying,  he  might  use  any  means  to  foil  them. 
And  he  could  not  doubt  that  the  old  princess  had  sent 
him  expressly  to  frustrate  their  plans. 

While  he  stood  thinking  thus  with  himself,  the  princess 
was  earnestly  watching  the  king,  with  looks  of  childish 
love  and  womanly  tenderness  that  went  to  Curdie's  heart. 
Now  and  then  with  a  great  fan  of  peacock  feathers  she 
would  fan  him  very  softly ;  now  and  then,  seeing  a  cloud 
begin  to  gather  upon  the  sky  of  his  sleeping  face,  she 
would  climb  upon  the  bed,  and  bending  to  his  ear  whisper 
into  it,  then  draw  back  and  watch  again — generally 
to  see  the  cloud  disperse.  In  his  deepest  slumber,  the 


COUNTER-PLOTTING.  155 

soul  of  the  king  lay  open  to  the  voice  of  his  child,  and 
that  voice  had  power  either  to  change  the  aspect  of  his 
visions,  or,  which  was  better  still,  to  breathe  hope  into  his 
heart,  and  courage  to  endure  them. 

Curdie  came  near,  and  softly  called  her. 

"  I  can't  leave  papa  just  yet,"  she  returned,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  I  will  wait,"  said  Curdie  j  "  but  I  want  very  much  to 
say  something." 

In  a  few  minutes  she  came  to  him  where  he  stood 
under  the  lamp. 

"  Well,  Curdie,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Princess,"  he  replied,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
found  why  your  grandmother  sent  me." 

'Come  this  way,  then,"  she  answered,  "where  I  can 
see  the  face  of  my  king." 

Curdie  placed  a  chair  for  her  in  the  spot  she  chose, 
where  she  would  be  near  enough  to  mark  any  slightest 
change  on  her  father's  countenance,  yet  where  their  low- 
voiced  talk  would  not  disturb  him.  There  he  sat  down 
beside  her  and  told  her  all  the  story — how  her  grand- 
mother had  sent  her  good  pigeon  for  him,  and  how  she 
had  instructed  him,  and  sent  him  there  without  telling 
him  what  he  had  to  do.  Then  he  told  her  what  he  had 
discovered  of  the  state  of  things  generally  in  Gwynty- 
storm,  and  specially  what  he  had  heard  and  seen  in  the 
palace  that  night. 


1 56  •    THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

"Things  are  in  a  bad  state  enough,"  he  said  in 
conclusion;  — "lying  and  selfishness  and  inhospitality 
and  dishonesty  everywhere ;  and  to  crown  all,  they  speak 
with  disrespect  of  the  good  king,  and  not  a  man  of  them 
knows  he  is  ill." 

"  You  frighten  me  dreadfully,"  said  Irene,  trembling. 

"You  must  be  brave  for  your  king's  sake,"  said 
Curdie. 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  she  replied,  and  turned  a  long  loving 
look  upon  the  beautiful  face  of  her  father.  "  But  what  is 
to  be  done  ?  And  how  am  I  to  believe  such  horrible 
things  of  Dr.  Kelman  ?  " 

"  My  dear  princess,"  replied  Curdie,  "  you  know 
nothing  of  him  but  his  face  and  his  tongue,  and  they  are 
both  false.  Either  you  must  beware  of  him,  or  you 
must  doubt  your  grandmother  and  me  ;  for  I  tell  you,  by 
the  gift  she  gave  me  of  testing  hands,  that  this  man  is  a 
snake.  That  round  body  he  shows  is  but  the  case  of  a 
serpent.  Perhaps  the  creature  lies  there,  as  in  its  nest, 
coiled  round  and  round  inside." 

"  Horrible  !  "  said  Irene. 

"  Horrible  indeed ;  but  we  must  not  try  to  get  rid  of 
horrible  things  by  refusing  to  look  at  them,  and  saying 
they  are  not  there.  Is  not  your  beautiful  father  sleep- 
ing better  since  he  had  the  wine  ?  " 

"  yes." 


COUNTER-PLOTTING.  157 

"  Does  he  always  sleep  better  after  having  it  ?  " 

She  reflected  an  instant 

"  No ;  always  worse — till  to-night,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  remember  that  was  the  wine  I  got  him — not 
what  the  butler  drew.  Nothing  that  passes  through  any 
hand  in  the  house  except  yours  or  mine  must  henceforth, 
till  he  is  well,  reach  his  majesty's  lips." 

"But  how,  dear  Curdie?"  said  the  princess,  almost 
crying. 

"  That  we  must  contrive,"  answered  Curdie.  "  I  know 
how  to  take  care  of  the  wine  ;  but  for  his  food — now  we 
must  think." 

"He  takes  hardly  any,"  said  the  princess,  with  a 
pathetic  shake  of  her  little  head  which  Curdie  had 
almost  learned  to  look  for. 

"  The  more  need,"  he  replied,  "  there  should  be  no 
poison  in  it."  Irene  shuddered.  "  As  soon  as  he  has 
honest  food  he  will  begin  to  grow  better.  And  you 
must  be  just  as  careful  with  yourself,  princess,"  Curdie 
went  on,  "  for  you  don't  know  when  they  may  begin  to 
poison  you  too." 

"  There's  no  fear  of  me ;  don't  talk  about  me,"  said 
Irene.  "  The  good  food  ! — how  are  we  to  get  it,  Curdie? 
That  is  the  whole  question." 

"  I  am  thinking  hard,"  answered  Curdie.  "  The  good 
food  ?  Let  me  see — let  me  see  1 — Such  servants  as  I  saw 

14 


I  $8  THE  PRINCESS  AND   CUR  DIE. 

below  are  sure  to  have  the  best  of  everything  for  them- 
selves :  I  will  go  and  see  what  I  can  find  on  their 
supper-table." 

"  The  chancellor  sleeps  in  the  house,  and  he  and  the 
master  of  the  king's  horse  always  have  their  supper 
together  in  a  room  off  the  great  hall,  to  the  right  as  you 
go  down  the  stair,"  said  Irene.  "  I  would  go  with  you, 
but  I  dare  not  leave  my  father.  Alas  !  he  scarcely  ever 
takes  more  than  a  mouthful.  I  can't  think  how  he  lives  ! 
And  the  very  thing  he  would  like,  and  often  asks  for — 
a  bit  of  bread — I  can  hardly  ever  get  for  him  :  Dr.  Kel- 
man  has  forbidden  it,  and  says  it  is  nothing  less  than 
poison  to  him." 

"  Bread  at  least  he  stall  have,"  said  Curdie ;  "  and 
that,  with  the  honest  wine,  will  do  as  well  as  anything, 
I  do  believe.  I  will  go  at  once  and  look  for  some.  But 
I  want  you  to  see  Lina  first,  and  know  her,  lest,  coming 
upon  her  by  accident  at  any  time,  you  should  be  fright- 
ened." 

"  I  should  like  much  to  see  her,"  said  the  princess. 

Warning  her  not  to  be  startled  by  her  ugliness,  he  went 
to  the  door  and  called  her. 

She  entered,  creeping  with  downcast  head,  and  drag- 
ging her  tail  over  the  floor  behind  her.  Curdie  watched 
the  princess  as  the  frightful  creature  came  nearer  and 
nearer.  One  shudder  went  from  head  to  foot  of  her,  and 


COUNTER-PLOTTING.  159 

next  instant  she  stepped  to  meet  her.  Lina  dropped  flat 
on  the  floor,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  two  big  paws. 
It  went  to  the  heart  of  the  princess  :  in  a  moment  she 
was  on  her  knees  beside  her,  stroking  her  ugly  head, 
and  patting  her  all  over. 

"  Good  dog  !     Dear  ugly  dog  ! "  she  said 

Lina  whimpered. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Curdie,  "  from  what  your  grand- 
mother told  me,  that  Lina  is  a  woman,  and  that  she  was 
naughty,  but  is  now  growing  good." 

Lina  had  lifted  her  head  while  Irene  was  caressing  her ; 
now  she  dropped  it  again  between  her  paws ;  but  the 
princess  took  it  in  her  hands,  and  kissed  the  forehead 
betwixt  the  gold-green  eyes. 

"  Shall  I  take  her  with  me  or  leave  her  ? "  asked 
Curdie. 

"  Leave  her,  poor  dear, "  said  Irene,  and  Curdie, 
knowing  the  way  now,  went  without  her. 

He  took  his  way  first  to  the  room  the  princess  had 
spoken  of,  and  there  also  were  the  remains  of  supper ; 
but  neither  there  nor  in  the  kitchen  could  he  find  a  scrap 
of  plain  wholesome-looking  bread.  So  he  returned  and 
told  her  that  as  soon  as  it  was  light  he  would  go  into  the 
city  for  some,  and  asked  her  for  a  handkerchief  to  tie  it 
in.  If  he  could  not  bring  it  himself,  he  would  send  it  by 
Lina,  who  could  keep  out  of  sight  better  than  he,  and  as 


i6o 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 


soon  as  all  was  quiet  at  night  he  would  come  to  her 
again.  He  also  asked  her  to  tell  the  king  that  he  was  in 
the  house. 

His  hope  lay  in  the  fact  that  bakers  everywhere  go  to 
work  early.  But  it  was  yet  much  too  early.  So  he  per- 
suaded the  princess  to  lie  down,  promising  to  call  her  if 
the  king  should  stir. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE  LOAF. 

IS  majesty  slept  very  quietly.  The  dawn 
had  grown  almost  day,  and  still  Curdie 
lingered,  unwilling  to  disturb  the  princess. 
At  last,  however,  he  called  her,  and  she 
was  in  the  room  in  a  moment.  She  had  slept,  she 
said,  and  felt  quite  fresh.  Delighted  to  find  her 
father  still  asleep,  and  so  peacefully,  she  pushed  her 
chair  close  to  the  bed,  and  sat  down  with  her  hands 
in  her  lap. 

Curdie  got  his  mattock  from  where  he  had  hidden  it 
behind  a  great  mirror,  and  went  to  the  cellar,  followed  by 
Lina.  They  took  some  breakfast  with  them  as  they 
passed  through  the  hall,  and  as  soon  as  they  had  eaten 
it  went  out  the  back  way. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  passage  Curdie  seized  the  rope, 
drew  himself  up,  pushed  away  the  shatter,  and  entered 
(he  dungeon.  Then  he  swung  the  end  of  the  rope  to 


162  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

Lina,  and  she  caught  it  in  her  teeth.  When  her  master 
said,  "  Now,  Lina !  "  she  gave  a  great  spring,  and  he  ran 
away  with  the  end  of  the  rope  as  fast  as  ever  he  could. 
And  such  a  spring  had  she  made,  that  by  the  time  he  had 
to  bear  her  weight  she  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  hole. 
The  instant  she  got  a  paw  through,  she  was  all  through. 

Apparently  their  enemies  were  waiting  till  hunger 
should  have  cowed  them,  for  there  was  no  sign  of  any 
attempt  having  been  made  to  open  the  door.  A  blow  or 
two  of  Curdie's  mattock  drove  the  shattered  lock  clean 
from  it,  and  telling  Lina  to  wait  there  till  he  came  back, 
and  let  no  one  in,  he  walked  out  into  the  silent  street, 
and  drew  the  door  to  behind  him.  He  could  hardly 
believe  it  was  not  yet  a  whole  day  since  he  had  been 
thrown  in  there  with  his  hands  tied  at  his  back. 

Down  the  town  he  went,  walking  in  the  middle  of  the 
street,  that,  if  any  one  saw  him,  he  might  see  he  was  not 
afraid,  and  hesitate  to  rouse  an  attack  on  him.  As  to 
the  dogs,  ever  since  the  death  of  their  two  companions,  a 
shadow  that  looked  like  a  mattock  was  enough  to  make 
them  scamper.  As  soon  as  he  reached  the  archway  of 
the  city  gate  he  turned  to  reconnoitre  the  baker's  shop, 
and  perceiving  no  sign  of  movement,  waited  there  watch- 
ing for  the  first. 

After  about  an  hour,  the  door  opened,  and  the  baker's 
man  appeared  with  a  pail  in  his  hand.  He  went  to  a 


THE  LOAF.  i&j 

pump  that  stood  in  the  street,  and  having  filled  his  pail 
returned  with  it  into  the  shop.  Curdie  stole  after  him, 
found  the  door  on  the  latch,  opened  it  very  gently, 
peeped  in,  saw  nobody,  and  entered.  Remembering 
perfectly  from  what  shelf  the  baker's  wife  had  taken  the 
loaf  she  said  was  the  best,  and  seeing  just  one  upon  it, 
he  seized  it,  laid  the  price  of  it  on  the  counter,  and  sped 
softly  out,  and  up  the  street.  Once  more  in  the  dungeon 
beside  Lina,  his  first  thought  was  to  fasten  up  the  door 
again,  which  would  have  been  easy,  so  many  iron  frag- 
ments of  all  sorts  and  sizes  lay  about ;  but  he  bethought 
himself  that  if  he  left  it  as  it  was,  and  they  came  to  find 
him,  they  would  conclude  at  once  that  they  had  made 
their  escape  by  it,  and  would  look  no  farther  so  as  to  dis- 
cover the  hole.  He  therefore  merely  pushed  the  door 
close  and  left  it.  Then  once  more  carefully  arranging 
the  earth  behind  the  shutter,  so  that  it  should  again  fall 
with  it,  he  returned  to  the  cellar. 

And  now  he  had  to  convey  the  loaf  to  the  princess. 
If  he  could  venture  to  take  it  himself,  well ;  if  not, 
he  would  send  Lina.  He  crept  to  the  door  of  the 
servants'  hall,  and  found  the  sleepers  beginning  to  stir. 
One  said  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed ;  another,  that  he  would 
go  to  the  cellar  instead,  and  have  a  mug  of  wine  to 
waken  him  up ;  while  a  third  challenged  a  fourth  to  give 
him  his  revenge  at  some  game  or  other. 

t 


iC4  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  Oh,  hang  your  losses  ! "  answered  his  companion ; 
"you'll  soon  pick  up  twice  as  much  about  the  house,  if 
you  but  keep  your  eyes  open." 

B  Perceiving  there  would  be  risk  in  attempting  to  pass 
through,  and  reflecting  that  the  porters  in  the  great  hall 
would  probably  be  awake  also,  Curdie  went  back  to  the 
cellar,  took  Irene's  handkerchief  with  the  loaf  in  it,  tied  it 
round  Lina's  neck,  and  told  her  to  take  it  to  the 
princess. 

Using  every  shadow  and  every  shelter,  Lina  slid 
through  the  servants  like  a  shapeless  terror  through  a 
guilty  mind,  and  so,  by  corridor  and  great  hall,  up  the 
stab:  to  the  king's  chamber. 

Irene  trembled  a  little  when  she  saw  her  glide  sound- 
less in  across  the  silent  dusk  of  the  morning,  that  filtered 
through  the  heavy  drapery  of  the  windows,  but  she 
recovered  herself  at  once  when  she  saw  the  bundle  about 
her  neck,  for  it  both  assured  her  of  Curdie's  safety,  and 
gave  her  hope  of  her  father's.  She  untied  it  with  joy, 
and  Lina  stole  away,  silent  as  she  had  come.  Her  joy 
was  the  greater  that  the  king  had  woke  up  a  little  while 
before,  and  expressed  a  desire  for  food — not  that  he  felt 
,  exactly  hungry,  he  said,  and  yet  he  wanted  something. 
If  only  he  might  have  a  piece  of  nice  fresh  bread  !  Irene 
had  no  knife,  but  with  eager  hands  she  broke  a  great 
piece  from  the  loaf,  and  poured  out  a  full  glass  of  wine. 


THE  LOAF.  165 

The  king  ate  and  drank,  enjoyed  the  bread  and  the  wine 
much,  and  instantly  fell  asleep  again. 

It  was  hours  before  the  lazy  people  brought  their 
breakfast.  When  it  came,  Irene  crumbled  a  little  about, 
threw  some  into  the  fire-place,  and  managed  to  make  the 
tray  look  just  as  usual. 

In  the  meantime,  down  below  in  the  cellar,  Curdie  was 
lying  in  the  hollow  between  the  upper  sides  of  two  of  the 
great  casks,  the  warmest  place  he  could  find.  Lina  was 
watching.  She  lay  at  his  feet,  across  the  two  casks,  and 
did  her  best  so  to  arrange  her  huge  tail  that  it  should  be 
a  warm  coverlid  for  her  master. 

By-and-by  Dr.  Kelman  called  to  see  his  patient ;  and 
now  that  Irene's  eyes  were  opened,  she  saw  clearly  enough 
that  he  was  both  annoyed  and  puzzled  at  finding  his 
majesty  rather  better.  He  pretended  however  to  congra- 
tulate him,  saying  he  believed  he  was  quite  fit  to  see  the 
lord  chamberlain  :  he  wanted  his  signature  to  something 
important ;  only  he  must  net  strain  his  mind  to  understand 
it,  whatever  it  might  be  :  if  his  majesty  did,  he  would  not 
be  answerable  for  the  consequences.  The  king  said  he 
would  see  the  lord  chamberlain,  and  the  doctor  went. 
Then  Irene  gave  him  more  bread  and  wine,  and  the  king 
ate  and  drank,  and  smiled  a  feeble  smile,  the  first  real 
one  she  had  seen  for  many  a  day.  He  said  he  felt  much 
better,  and  would  soon  be  able  to  take  matters  into  his 


166  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

own  hands  again.  He  had  a  strange  miserable  feeling, 
he  said,  that  things  were  going  terribly  wrong,  although 
he  could  not  tell  how.  Then  the  princess  told  him  that 
Curdie  was  come,  and  that  at  night,  when  all  was  quiet, 
for  nobody  in  the  palace  must  know,  he  would  pay  his 
majesty  a  visit.  Her  great-great-grandmother  had  sent 
him,  she  said.  The  king  looked  strangely  upon  her,  but, 
the  strange  look  passed  into  a  smile  clearer  than  the  first, 
and  Irene's  heart  throbbed  with  delight. 


THE   LORD   CHAMBERLAIN. 

[T  noon  the  lord  chamberlain  appeared. 
With  a  long,  low  bow,  and  paper  in  hand, 
he  stepped  softly  into  the  room.  Greeting 
'his  majesty  with  every  appearance  of  the 
profoundest  respect,  and  congratulating  him  on  the 
evident  progress  he  had  made,  he  declared  himself 
sorry  to  trouble  him,  but  there  were  certain  papers,  he 
said,  which  required  his  signature — and  therewith  drew 
nearer  to  the  king,  who  lay  looking  at  him  doubtfully.  He 
was  a  lean,  long,  yellow  man,  with  a  small  head,  bald  over 
the  top,  and  tufted  at  the  back  and  about  the  ears.  He 
had  a  very  thin,  prominent,  hooked  nose,  and  a  quantity 
of  loose  skin  under  his  chin  and  about  the  throat,  which 
came  craning  up  out  of  his  neckcloth.  His  eyes  were 
very  small,  sharp,  and  glittering,  and  looked  black  as  jet 
He  had  hardly  enough  of  a  mouth  to  make  a  smile  with. 
His  left  hand  held  the  paper,  and  the  long,  skinny  fingers 
of  his  right  a  pen  just  dipped  in  ink. 


168  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD1E. 

But  the  king,  who  for  weeks  had  scarcely  known  what 
he  did,  was  to-day  so  much  himself  as  to  be  aware  that  he 
was  not  quite  himself;  and  the  moment  he  saw  the  paper, 
he  resolved  that  he  would  not  sign  without  understanding 
and  approving  of  it.  He  requested  the  lord  chamberlain 
therefore  to  read  it.  His  lordship  commenced  at  once 
but  the  difficulties  he  seemed  to  encounter,  and  the  fits 
of  stammering  that  seized  him,  roused  the  king's  suspicion 
tenfold.  He  called  the  princess. 

"  I  trouble  his  lordship  too  much,"  he  said  to  her : 
"  you  can  read  print  well,  my  child — let  me  hear  how  you 
can  read  writing.  Take  that  paper  from  his  lordship's 
hand,  and  read  it  to  me  from  beginning  to  end,  while  my 
lord  drinks  a  glass  of  my  favourite  wine,  and  watches  for 
your  blunders. 

"  Pardon  me,  your  majesty,"  said  the  lord  chamberlain, 
with  as  much  of  a  smile  as  he  was  able  to  extemporize, 
"  but  it  were  a  thousand  pities  to  put  the  attainments  of 
her  royal  highness  to  a  test  altogether  too  severe.  Your 
majesty  can  scarcely  with  justice  expect  the  very  organs 
of  her  speech  to  prove  capable  of  compassing  words  so 
long,  and  to  her  so  unintelligible."  *• 

"  I  think  much  of  my  little  princess  and  her  capabili- 
ties," returned  the  king,  more  and  more  aroused.  "  Pray, 
my  lord,  permit  her  to  try." 

"  Consider,  your  majesty :  the  thing  would   be  alto 


THE  LORD   CHAMBERLAIN.  169 

gether  without  precedent.      It  would  be  to  make  sport  of 
statecraft,"  said  the  lord  chamberlain. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  my  lord,"  answered  the  king 
with  more  meaning  than  he  intended  should  be  manifest 
while  to  his  growing  joy  he  felt  new  life  and  power 
throbbing  in  heart  and  brain.  "  So  this  morning  we  shall 
read  no  farther.  I  am  indeed  ill  able  for  business  of  such 
weight." 

"Will  your  majesty  please  sign  your  royal  name 
here  ?  "  said  the  lord  chamberlain,  preferring  the  request  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  approaching  with  the  feather  end 
of  the  pen  pointed  to  a  spot  where  was  a  great  red  seal. 

"  Not  to-day,  my  lord,"  replied  the  king. 

"  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  your  majesty,"  softly 
insisted  the  other. 

"  I  descried  no  such  importance  in  it,"  said  the  king. 

"Your  majesty  heard  but  a  part." 

"  And  I  can  hear  no  more  to-day." 

"  I  trust  your  majesty  has  ground  enough,  in  a  case 
of  necessity  like  the  present,  to  sign  upon  the  representa- 
tion of  his  loyal  subject  and  chamberlain  ? — Or  shall  I 
call  the  lord  chancellor  ?  "  he  added,  rising. 

"There  is  no  need.    I  have  the  very  highest  opinion  of 
•    your  judgment,  my  lord,"  answered  the  king  ;  " — that  is, 
with  respect  to  means  :  we  might  differ  as  to  ends." 

The  lord  chamberlain  made  yet  further  attempts   at 

15 


170  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

persuasion ;  but  they  grew  feebler  and  feebler,  and  he 
was  at  last  compelled  to  retire  without  having  gained  his 
object  And  well  might  his  annoyance  be  keen  !  For 
that  paper  was  the  king's  will,  drawn  up  by  the  attorney- 
general  ;  nor  until  they  had  the  king's  signature  to  it  was 
there  much  use  in  venturing  farther.  But  his  worst 
sense  of  discomfiture  arose  from  finding  the  king  with  so 
much  capacity  left,  for  the  doctor  had  pledged  himself  so 
to  weaken  his  brain  that  he  should  be  as  a  child  in  their 
hands,  incapable  of  refusing  anything  requested  of  him  : 
his  lordship  began  to  doubt  the  doctor's  fidelity  to  the 
conspiracy. 

The  princess  was  in  high  delight.  She  had  not  for 
weeks  heard  so  many  words,  not  to  say  words  of  such 
strength  and  reason,  from  her  father's  lips  :  day  by  day  he 
had  been  growing  weaker  and  more  lethargic.  He  was 
so  much  exhausted  however  after  this  effort,  that  he  asked 
for  another  piece  of  bread  and  more  wine,  and  fell  fast 
asleep  the  moment  he  had  taken  them. 

The  lord  chamberlain  sent  in  a  rage  for  Dr.  Kelman. 
He  came,  and  while  professing  himself  unable  to  under- 
stand the  symptoms  described  by  his  lordship,  yet 
pledged  himself  again  that  on  the  morrow  the  king  should 
do  whatever  was  required  of  him. 

The  day  went  on.  When  his  majesty  was  awake,  the 
princess  read  to  him — one  story-book  after  another ;  and 


THE  LORD  CHAMBERLAIN.  171 

whatever  she  read,  the  king  listened  as  if  he  had  never 
heard  anything  so  good  before,  making  out  in  it  the 
wisest  meanings.  Every  now  and  then  he  asked  for  a 
piece  of  bread  and  a  little  wine,  and  every  time  he  ate 
and  drank  he  slept,  and  every  time  he  woke  he  seemed 
better  than  the  last  time.  The  princess  bearing  her  part, 
the  loaf  was  eaten  up  and  the  flagon  emptied  before  night. 
The  butler  took  the  flagon  away,  and  brought  it  back 
filled  to  the  brim,  but  both  were  thirsty  as  well  as  hungry 
when  Curdie  came  again. 

Meantime  he  and  Lina,  watching  and  waking  alter- 
nately, had  plenty  of  sleep.  In  the  afternoon,  peeping 
from  the  recess,  they  saw  several  of  the  servants  enter 
hurriedly,  one  after  the  other,  draw  wine,  drink  it,  and 
steal  out ;  but  their  business  was  to  take  care  of  the  king, 
not  of  his  cellar,  and  they  let  them  drink.  Also,  when 
the  butler  came  to  fill  the  flagon,  they  restrained  them- 
selves, for  the  villain's  fate  was  not  yet  ready  for  him. 
He  looked  terribly  frightened,  and  had  brought  with  him 
a 'large  candle  and  a  small  terrier — which  latter  indeed 
threatened  to  be  troublesome,  for  he  went  roving  and 
sniffing  about  until  he  came  to  the  recess  where  they 
were.  But  as  soon  as  he  showed  himself,  Lina  opened 
her  jaws  so  wide,  and  glared  at  him  so  horribly,  that, 
without  even  uttering  a  whimper,  he  tucked  his  tail  be- 
tween his  legs  and  ran  to  his  master.  He  was  drawing 


172  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

the  wicked  wine  at  the  moment,  and  did  not  see  him, 
else  he  would  doubtless  have  run  too. 

When  supper-time  approached,  Curdie  took  his  place 
at  the  door  into  the  servants'  hall ;  but  after  a  long  hour's 
vain  watch,  he  began  to  fear  he  should  get  nothing : 
there  was  so  much  idling  about,  as  well  as  coming  and 
going.  It  was  hard  to  bear — chiefly  from  the  attractions 
of  a  splendid  loaf,  just  fresh  out  of  the  oven,  which  he 
longed  to  secure  for  the  king  and  princess.  At  length 
his  chance  did  arrive  :  he  pounced  upon  the  loaf  and 
carried  it  away,  and  soon  after  got  hold  of  a  pie. 

This  time,  however,  both  loaf  and  pie  were  missed. 
The  cook  was  called.  He  declared  he  had  provided 
both.  One  of  themselves,  he  said,  must  have  carried 
them  away  for  some  friend  outside  the  palace.  Then  a 
housemaid,  who  had  not  long  been  one  of  them,  said  she 
had  seen  some  one  like  a  page  running  in  the  direction 
of  the  cellar  with  something  in  his  hands.  Instantly  all 
turned  upon  the  pages,  accusing  them,  one  after  another. 
All  denied,  but  nobody  believed  one  of  them  :  where 
there  is  no  truth  there  can  be  no  faith. 

To  the  cellar  they  all  set  out  to  look  for  the  missing 
pie  and  loaf.  Liha  heard  them  coming,  as  well  she 
might,  for  they  were  talking  and  quarrelling  loud,  and 
gave  her  master  warning.  They  snatched  up  everything, 
and  got  all  signs  of  their  presence  out  at  the  back  door 


THE   LORD   CHAMBERLAIN.  173 

before  the  servants  entered.  When  they  found  nothing, 
they  all  turned  on  the  chambermaid,  and  accused  her, 
not  only  of  lying  against  the  pages,  but  of  having  taken 
the  things  herself.  Their  language  and  behaviour  so  dis- 
gusted Curdie,  who  could  hear  a  great  part  of  what 
passed,  and  he  saw  the  danger  of  discovery  now  so  much 
increased,  that  he  began  to  devise  how  best  at  once  to 
rid  the  palace  of  the  whole  pack  of  them.  That  how 

• 

ever,  would  be  small  gain  so  long  as  the  treacherous 
officers  of  state  continued  in  it.  They  must  be  first  dealt 
with.  A  thought  came  to  him,  and  the  longer  he  looked 
at  it  the  better  he  liked  it. 

As  soon  as  the  servants  were  gone,  quarrelling  and 
accusing  all  the  way,  they  returned  and  finished  their 
supper.  Then  Curdie,  who  had  long  been  satisfied  that 
Lina  understood  almost  every  word  he  said,  communi- 
cated his  plan  to  her,  and  knew  by  the  wagging  of  her 
tail  and  the  flashing  of  her  eyes  that  she  comprehended 
it.  Until  they  had  the  king  safe  through  the  worst  part 
of  the  night,  however,  nothing  could  be  done. 

They  had  now  merely  to  go  on  waiting  where  they  were 
till  the  household  should  be  asleep.  This  waiting  and 
waiting  was  much  the  hardest  thing  Curdie  had  to  do  in 
the  whole  affair.  He  took  his  mattock,  and  going 
again  into  the  long  passage,  lighted  a  candle-end,  and 
proceeded  to  examine  the  rock  on  all  sides.  But  this 


174  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURD  IE. 

was  not  merely  to  pass  the  time :  he  had  a  reason  for  it. 
When  he  broke  the  stone  in  the  street,  over  which  the 
baker  fell,  its  appearance  led  him  to  pocket  a  fragment  for 
further  examination;  and  since  then  he  had  satisfied  him- 
self that  it  was  the  kind  of  stone  in  which  gold  is  found, 
and  that  the  yellow  particles  in  it  were  pure  metal.  If 
such  stone  existed  here  in  any  plenty,  he  could  soon 
make  the  king  rich,  and.independent  of  his  ill-conditioned 
subjects.  He  was  therefore  now  bent  on  an  examination 
of  the  rock ;  nor  had  he  been  at  it  long  before  he  was 
persuaded  that  there  were  large  quantities  of  gold  in  the 
half-crystalline  white  stone,  with  its  veins  of  opaque  white 
and  of  green,  of  which  the  rock,  so  far  as  he  had  been 
able  to  inspect  it,  seemed  almost  entirely  to  consist. 
Every  piece  he  broke  was  spotted  with  particles  and  little 
lumps  of  a  lovely  greenish  yellow — and  that  was  gold. 
Hitherto  he  had  worked  only  in  silver,  but  he  had  read, 
and  heard  talk,  and  knew  therefore  about  gold.  As  soon 
as  he  had  got  the  king  free  of  rogues  and  villains,  he 
would  have  all  the  best  and  most  honest  miners,  with  his 
father  at  the  head  of  them,  to  work  this  rock  for  the 
king. 

It  was  a  great  delight  to  him  to  use  his  mattock  once 
more.  The  time  went  quickly,  and  when  he  left  the 
passage  to  go  to  the  king's  chamber,  he  had  already  a 
good  heap  of  fragments  behind  the  broken  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

DR.    KELMAN. 

[S  soon  as  he  had  reason  to  hope  the  way 
was  clear,  Curdle  ventured  softly  into  the 
hall,  with  Lina  behind  him.  There  was 
no  one  asleep  on  the  bench  or  floor,  but 
by  the  fading  fire  sat  a  girl  weeping.  It  was  the  same 
who  had  seen  him  carrying  off  the  food,  and  had  been 
so  hardly  used  for  saying  so.  She  opened  her  eyes 
when  he  appeared,  but  did  not  seem  frightened  at  him. 

"  I  know  why  you  weep,"  said  Curdie ;  "  and  I  am 
sorry  for  you." 

"  It  is  hard  not  to  be  believed  just  because  one  speaks 
the  truth,"  said  the  girl,  "  but  that  seems  reason  enough 
with  some  people.  My  mother  taught  me  to  speak  the 
truth,  and  took  such  pains  with  me  that  I  should  find 
it  hard  to  tell  a  lie,  though  I  could  invent  many  a  story 
these  servants  would  believe  at  once ;  for  the  truth  is  a 


176  THE  PRINCESS  AND   CURDIE. 

strange  thing  here,  and  they  don't  know  it  when  they  see 
it.  Show  it  them,  and  they  all  stare  as  if  it  were  a 
wicked  lie,  and  that  with  the  lie  yet  warm  that  has  just 
left  their  own  mouths  ! — You  are  a  stranger,"  she  said, 
and  burst  out  weeping  afresh,  "  but  the  stranger  you  are 
to  such  a  place  and  such  people  the  better  ! " 

"  I  am  the  person,"  said  Curdie,  "whom  you  saw  carry- 
ing the  things  from  the  supper-table."  He  showed  her 
the  loaf.  "  If  you  can  trust,  as  well  as  speak  the  truth,  I 
will  trust  you. — Can  you  trust  me  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment 

"  I  can,"  she  answered. 

"One  thing  more,"  said  Curdie  :  "have you  courage  as 
well  as  faith  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Look  my  dog  in  the  face  and  don't  cry  out. — Come 
here,  Lina." 

Lina  obeyed.  The  girl  looked  at  her,  and  laid  her 
hand  on  her  head. 

"  Now  I  know  you  are  a  true  woman,"  said  Curdie. 
" — I  am  come  to  set  things  right  in  this  house.  Not 
one  of  the  servants  knows  I  am  here.  Will  you  tell  them 
to-morrow  morning,  that,  if  they  do  not  alter  their  ways, 
and  give  over  drinking,  and  lying,  and  stealing,  and  un- 
kindness,  they  shall  every  one  of  them  be  driven  from 
the  palace  ?  " 


DR.  KELMAtf.  177 

"  They  will  not  believe  me." 

"  Most  likely ;  but  will  you  give  them  the  chance  ?  " 

"  I  will" 

"  Then  I  will  be  your  friend.  Wait  here  till  I  come 
again." 

She  looked  him  once  more  in  the  face,  and  sat  down. 

When  he  reached  the  royal  chamber,  he  found  his 
majesty  awake,  and  very  anxiously  expecting  him.  He 
received  him  with  the  utmost  kindness,  and  at  once  as  it 
were  put  himself  in  his  hands  by  telling  him  all  he  knew 
concerning  the  state  he  was  in.  His  voice  was  feeble, 
but  his  eye  was  clear,  and  although  now  and  then  his 
words  and  thoughts  seemed  to  wander,  Curdie  could 
not  be  certain  that  the  cause  of  their  not  being  intelli- 
gible to  him  did  not  lie  in  himself.  The  king  told  him 
that  for  some  years,  ever  since  his  queen's  death,  he  had 
been  losing  heart  over  the  wickedness  of  his  people.  He 
had  tried  hard  to  make  them  good,  but  they  got  worse 
and  worse.  Evil  teachers,  unknown  to  him,  had  crept 
into  the  schools  ;  there  was  a  general  decay  of  truth  and 
right  principle  at  least  in  the  city  ;  and  as  that  set  the 
example  to  the  nation,  it  must  spread.  The  main  cause 
of  his  illness  was  the  despondency  with  which  the 
degeneration  of  his  people  affected  him.  He  could  not 
sleep,  and  had  terrible  dreams ;  while,  to  his  unspeakable 
shame  and  distress,  he  doubted  almost  everybody.  He 


173  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

had  striven  against  his  suspicion,  but  in  vain,  and  his 
heart  was  sore,  for  his  courtiers  and  councillors  were 
really  kind ;  only  he  could  not  think  why  none  of  their 
ladies  came  near  his  princess.  The  whole  country  was 
discontented,  he  heard,  and  there  were  signs  of  gathering 
storm  outside  as  well  as  inside  his  borders.  The  master 
of  the  horse  gave  him  sad  news  of  the  insubordination  of 
the  army  ;  and  his  great  white  horse  was  dead,  they  told 
him  ;  and  his  sword  had  lost  its  temper  :  it  bent  double 
the  last  time  he  tried  it ! — only  perhaps  that  was  in  a 
dream  ;  and  they  could  not  find  his  shield ;  and  one  of 
his  spurs  had  lost  the  rowel.  Thus  the  poor  king  went 
wandering  in  a  maze  of  sorrows,  some  of  which  were 
purely  imaginary,  while  others  were  truer  than  he  under- 
stood. He  told  how  thieves  came  at  night  and  tried  to 
take  his  crown,  so  that  he  never  dared  let  it  out  of 
his  hands  even  when  he  slept ;  and  how,  every  night,  an 
evil  demon  in  the  shape  of  his  physician  came  and 
poured  poison  down  his  throat.  He  knew  it  to  be 
poison,  he  said,  somehow,  although  it  tasted  like  wine. 

Here  he  stopped,  faint  with  the  unusual  exertion  of 
talking.  Curdie  seized  the  flagon,  and  ran  to  the  wine- 
cellar. 

In  the  servants'  hall  the  girl  still  sat  by  the  fire,  wait- 
ing for  him.  As  he  returned  he  told  her  to  follow  him, 
and  left  her  at  the  chamber  door  till  he  should  rejoin  her. 


Curdle  brings  wine  to  the  king.  Page   179. 


DR.  KELMAN.  179 

When  the  king  had  had  a  little  wine,  he  informed  him 
that  he  had  already  discovered  certain  of  his  majesty's 
enemies,  and  one  of  the  worst  of  them  was  the  doctor, 
for  it  was  no  other  demon  than  the  doctor  himself  who 
had  been  coming  every  night,  and  giving  him  a  slow 
poison. 

"  So  ! "  said  the  king.  "  Then  I  have  not  been  sus- 
picious enough,  for  I  thought  it  was  but  a  dream  !  Is  it 
possible  Kelman  can  be  such  a  wretch  ?  Who  then  am  I 
to  trust  ?  " 

"  Not  one  in  the  house,  except  the  princess  and  my- 
self," said  Curdie. 

"  I  will  not  go  to  sleep,"  said  the  king. 

"  That  would  be  as  bad  as  taking  the  poison,"  said 
Curdie.  "  No,  no,  sire ;  you  must  show  your  confidence 
by  leaving  all  the  watching  to  me,  and  doing  all  the  sleep- 
ing your  majesty  can." 

The  king  smiled  a  contented  smile,  turned  on  his  side, 
and  was  presently  fast  asleep.  Then  Curdie  persuaded 
the  princess  also  to  go  to  sleep,  and  telling  Lina  to  watch, 
went  to  the  housemaid.  He  asked  her  if  she  could 
inform  him  which  of  the  council  slept  in  the  palace,  and 
show  him  their  rooms.  She  knew  every  one  of  them,  she 
said,  and  took  him  the  round  of  all  their  doors,  telling 
him  which  slept  in  each  room.  He  then  dismissed  her, 
and  returning  to  the  king's  chamber,  seated  himself  be- 


iSo  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE, 

hind  a  curtain  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  on  the  side  farthest 
from  the  king.  He  told  Lina  to  get  under  the  bed,  and 
make  no  noise. 

About  one  o'clock  the  doctor  came  stealing  in.  He 
looked  round  for  the  princess,  and  seeing  no  one,  smiled 
with  satisfaction  as  he  approached  the  wine  where  it  stood 
under  the  lamp.  Having  partly  filled  a  glass,  he  took 
from  his  pocket  a  small  phial,  and  filled  up  the  glass 
from  it.  The  light  fell  upon  his  face  from  above,  and 
Curdie  saw  the  snake  in  it  plainly  visible.  He  had  never 
beheld  such  an  evil  countenance  :  the  man  hated  the 
king,  and  delighted  in  doing  him  wrong. 

With  the  glass  in  his  hand,  he  drew  near  the  bed,  set  it 
down,  and  began  his  usual  rude  rousing  of  his  majesty. 
Not  at  once  succeeding,  he  took  a  lancet  from  his  pocket, 
and  was  parting  its  cover  with  an  involuntary  hiss  of  hate 
between  his  closed  teeth,  when  Curdie  stooped  and 
whispered  to  Lina,  "  Take  him  by  the  leg,  Lina."  She 
darted  noiselessly  upon  him.  With  a  face  of  horrible 
consternation,  he  gave  his  leg  one  tug  to  free  it ;  the 
next  instant  Curdie  heard  the  one  scrunch  with  which  she 
crushed  the  bone  like  a  stick  of  celery.  He  tumbled  on 
the  floor  with  a  yell. 

"  Drag  him  out,  Lina,"  said  Curdie. 

Lina  took  him  by  the  collar,  and  dragged  him  out. 
Her  master  followed  to  direct  her,  and  they  left  him  lying 


l Lina  darted  noiselessly  upon  him. 


Page  1 80. 


DR.  KELMAN.  181 

across  the  lord  chamberlain's  door,  where  he  gave  another 
horrible  yell,  and  fainted. 

The  king  had  waked  at  his  first  cry,  and  by  the  time 
Curdie  re-entered  he  had  got  at  his  sword  where  it  hung 
from  the  centre  of  the  tester,  had  drawn  it,  and  was  trying 
to  get  out  of  bed.  But  when  Curdie  told  him  all  was 
well,  he  lay  down  again  as  quietly  as  a  child  comforted  by 
his  mother  from  a  troubled  dream.  Curdie  went  to  the 
door  to  watch. 

The  doctor's  yells  had  roused  many,  but  not  one  had 
yet  ventured  to  appear.  Bells  were  rung  violently,  but 
none  were  answered ;  and  in  a  minute  or  two  Curdie  had 
what  he  was  watching  for.  The  door  of  the  lord  cham- 
berlain's room  opened,  and,  pale  with  hideous  terror,  his 
lordship  peeped  out.  Seeing  no  one,  he  advanced  to  step 
into  the  corridor,  and  tumbled  over  the  doctor.  Curdie 
ran  up,  and  held  out  his  hand.  He  received  in  it  the 
claw  of  a  bird  of  prey — vulture  or  eagle,  he  could  not  tell 
which. 

His  lordship,  as  soon  as  he  was  on  his  legs,  taking  him 
for  one  of  the  pages,  abused  him  heartily  for  not  com- 
ing sooner,  and  threatened  him  with  dismissal  from  the 
king's  service  for  cowardice  and  neglect.  He  began  indeed 
what  bade  fair  to  be  a  sermon  on  the  duties  of  a  page,  but 
catching  sight  of  the  man  who  lay  at  his  door,  and  seeing 
it  was  the  doctor,  he  fell  out  upon  Curdie  afresh  for  stand- 

16 


1 82 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 


ing  there  doing  nothing,  and  ordered  him  to  fetch  imme- 
diate assistance.  Curdie  left  him,  but  slipped  into  the 
king's  chamber,  closed  and  locked  the  door,  and  left  the 
rascals  to  look  after  each  other.  Ere  long  he  heard 
hurrying  footsteps,  and  for  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  great 
muffled  tumult  of  scuffling  feet,  low  voices,  and  deep 
groanings  ;  then  all  was  still  again. 

Irene  slept  through  the  whole — so  confidently  did  she 
rest,  knowing  Curdie  was  in  her  father's  room  watching 
over  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   PROPHECY. 

'URDIE    sat   and   watched   every  motion   of 
the  sleeping   king.      All   the  night,    to   his 
ear,   the    palace    lay    as    quiet    as    a   nur- 
sery of  healthful  children.     At   sunrise  he 
called  the  princess. 

"  How  has  his  Majesty  slept  ?  "  were  her  first  words  as 
she  entered  the  room. 

,"  Quite  quietly,"  answered  Curdie  ;    "  that  is,  since  the 
doctor  was  got  rid  of." 

"How  did  you  manage  that?"  inquired  Irene;  and 
Curdie  had  to  tell  all  about  it. 

"  How  terrible  1 "  she  said.     "  Did  it  not  startle  the 
king  dreadfully  ?  " 

"  It  did  rather.     I  found  him  getting  out  of  bed,  sword 
in  hand." 

"  The  brave  old  man  ! "  cried  the  princess. 

*'  Not  so  old  1 "  said  Curdie,  "  — as  you  will  soon  see. 


184  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

He  went  off  again  in  a  minute  or  so ;  but  for  a  little 
while  he  was  restless,  and  once  when  he  lifted  his  hand 
it  came  down  on  the  spikes  of  his  crown,  and  he  half 
waked." 

"  But  where  is  the  crown  ? "  cried  Irene,  in  sudden 
terror. 

"  I  stroked  his  hands,"  answered  Curdie,  "  and  took 
the  crown  from  them;  and  ever  since  he  has  slept 
quietly,  and  again  and  again  smiled  in  his  sleep." 

"  I  have  never  seen  him  do  that,"  said  the  princess. 
"But  what  have  you  done  with  the  crown,  Curdie  ?  " 

"  Look,"  said  Curdie,  moving  away  from  the  bedside. 

Irene  followed  him — and  there,  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  she  saw  a  strange  sight.  Lina  lay  at  full  length, 
fast  asleep,  her  tail  stretched  out  straight  behind  her  and 
her  fore-legs  before  her  :  between  the  two  paws  meeting  in 
fiont  of  it,  her  nose  just  touching  it  behind,  glowed  and 
flashed  the  crown,  like  a  nest  for  the  humming-birds  of 
heaven. 

Irene  gazed,  and  looked  up  with  a  smile. 

"  But  what  if  the  thief  were  to  come,  and  she  not  to 
wake  ?  "  she  said.  "  Shall  I  try  her  ?  "  And  as  she 
spoke  she  stooped  towards  the  crown. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Curdie,  terrified.  "  She  would 
frighten  you  out  of  your  wits.  I  would  do  it  to  show  you, 
but  she  would  wake  your  father  You  have  no  concep- 


THE  PROPHECY.  185 

tion  with  what  a  roar  she  would  spring  at  my  throat. 
But  you  shall  see  how  lightly  she  wakes  the  moment  I 
speak  to  her. — Lina  ! " 

She  was  on  her  feet  the  same  instant,  with  her  great  tail 
sticking  out  straight  behind  her,  just  as  it  had  been  lying. 

"  Good  dog  !  "  said  the  princess,  and  patted  her  head. 
Lina  wagged  her  tail  solemnly,  like  the  boom  of  an 
anchored  sloop.  Irene  took  the  crown,  and  laid  it  where 
the  king  would  see  it  when  he  woke. 

"Now,  princess,"  said  Curdie,  "I  must  leave  you  for  a 
few  minutes.  You  must  bolt  the  door,  please,  and  not 
open  it  to  any  one." 

Away  to  the  cellar  he  went  with  Lina,  taking  care,  as 
they  passed  through  the  servants'  hall,  to  get  her  a  good 
breakfast.  In  about  one  minute  she  had  eaten  what  he 
gave  her,  and  looked  up  in  his  face  :  it  was  not  more  she 
wanted,  but  work.  So  out  of  the  cellar  they  went 
through  the  passage,  and  Curdie  into  the  dungeon,  where 
he  pulled  up  Lina,  opened  the  door,  let  her  out,  and  shut 
it  again  behind  her.  As  he  reached  the  door  of  the 
king's  chamber,  Lina  was  flying  out  of  the  gate  of 
Gwyntystorm  as  fast  as  her  mighty  legs  could  carry  her. 

"  What's  come  to  the  wench  ?  "  growled  the  men-ser- 
vants one  to  another,  when  the  chambermaid  appeared 
among  them  the  next  morning.  There  was  something  in 


186  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

her  face  which  they  could  not  understand,  and  did  not 
like. 

"  Are  we  all  dirt  ?  "  they  said.  "  What  are  you  think- 
ing about?  Have  you  seen  yourself  in  the  glass  this 
morning,  miss  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer. 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  treated  as  you  deserve,  or  will 
you  speak,  you  hussy  ?  "  said  the  first  woman-cook.  "  I 
would  fain  know  what  right  you  have  to  put  on  a  face  like 
that ! " 

"  You  won't  believe  me,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Of  course  not.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  must  tell  you,  whether  you  believe  me  or  not,"  she 
said. 

"  Of  course  you  must." 

"  It  is  this,  then  :  if  you  do  not  repent  of  your  bad  ways, 
you  are  all  going  to  be  punished — all  turned  out  of  the 
palace  together." 

"A  mighty  punishment !"  said  the  butler.  "A  good  rid- 
dance, say  I,  of  the  trouble  of  keeping  minxes  like  you  in 
order  !  And  why,  pray,  should  we  be  turned  out  ?  What 
have  I  to  repent  of  now,  your  holiness  ?  " 

"That  you  know  best  yourself,"  said  the  girl. 

"  A  pretty  piece  of  insolence  !  How  should  /  know, 
forsooth,  what  a  menial  like  you  has  got  against  me  1 
There  are  people  in  this  house — oh  !  I'm  not  blind  to 


THE  PROPHECY.  187 

their  ways  !  but  every  one  for  himself,  say  I ! — Pray,  Miss 
Judgment,  who  gave  you  such  an  impertinent  message  to 
his  majesty's  household  ?  " 

"  One  who  is  come  to  set  things  right  in  the  king's 
house." 

"  Right,  indeed  !  "  cried  the  butler ;  but  that  moment 
the  thought  came  back  to  him  of  the  roar  he  had  heard  in 
the  cellar,  and  he  turned  pale  and  was  silent 

The  steward  took  it  up  next. 

« 

"  And  pray,  pretty  prophetess,"  he  said,  attempting  to 
chuck  her  under  the  chin,  "  what  have  /  got  to  repent 
of?" 

"  That  you  know  best  yourself,"  said  the  girl  "  You 
have  but  to  look  into  your  books  or  your  heart." 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  then,  what  I  have  to  repent  of?  "  said 
the  groom  of  the  chambers. 

"That  you  know  best  yourself,"  said  the  girl  once 
more.  "  The  person  who  told  me  to  tell  you  said  the 
servants  of  this  house  had  to  repent  of  thieving,  and  lying, 
and  unkindness,  and  drinking  ;  and  they  will  be  made  to 
repent  of  them  one  way,  if  they  don't  do  it  of  themselves 
another." 

Then  arose  a  great  hubbub ;  for.  by  this  time  all  the 
servants  in  the  house  were  gathered  about  her,  and  all 
talked  together,  in  towering  indignation. 

"  Thieving,  indeed ! "  cried  one.     "  A  pretty  word  in  a 


i88  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

house  where  everything  is  left  lying  about  in  a  shameless 
way,  tempting  poor  innocent  girls  ! — a  house  where  nobody 
cares  for  anything,  or  has  the  least  respect  to  the  value  of 
property ! " 

"  I  suppose  you  envy  me  this  brooch  of  mine,"  said 
another.  "There  was  just  a  half-sheet  of  note-paper 
about  it,  not  a  scrap  more,  in  a  drawer  that's  always  open 
in  the  writing-table  in  the  study  !  What  sort  of  a  place  is 
that  for  a  jewel  ?  Can  you  call  it  stealing  to  take  a  thing 
from  such  a  place  as  that  ?  Nobody  cared  a  straw  about 
it.  It  might  as  well  have  been  in  the  dust-hole  !  If  it 
had  been  locked  up — then,  to  be  sure  ! " 

"  Drinking  !  "  said  the  chief  porter,  with  a  husky  laugh. 
"  And  who  wouldn't  drink  when  he  had  a  chance  ?  Or 
who  would  repent  it,  except  that  the  drink  was  gone  ? 
Tell  me  that,  Miss  Innocence." 

"  Lying  ! "  said  a  great,  coarse  footman.  "  I  suppose 
you  mean  when  I  told  you  yesterday  you  were  a  pretty 
girl  when  you  didn't  pout  ?  Lying,  indeed  !  Tell  us 
something  worth  repenting  of!  Lying  is  the  way  of 
Gwyntystorm.  You  should  have  heard  Jabez  lying  to  the 
cook  last  night !  He  wanted  a  sweetbread  for  his  pup, 
and  pretended  it  was  for  the  princess  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! " 

"  Unkindness  !  I  wonder  who's  unkind  !  Going  and 
listening  to  any  stranger  against  her  fellow- servants,  and 
then  bringing  back  his  wicked  words  to  trouble  them  I " 


7 HE  PROPHECY.  189 

said  the  oldest  and  worst  of  the  housemaids.  M  — One  of 
ourselves,  too  ! — Come,  you  hypocrite  !  this  is  all  an 
invention  of  yours  and  your  young  man's,  to  take  your 
revenge  of  us  because  we  found  you  out  in  a  lie  last 
night.  Tell  true  now  : — wasn't  it  the  same  that  stole  the 
loaf  and  the  pie  that  sent  you  with  the  impudent 
message  ?  " 

As  she  said  this,  she  stepped  up  to  the  housemaid  and 
gave  her,  instead  of  time  to  answer,  a  box  on  the  ear  that 
almost  threw  her  down ;  and  whoever  coulcf  get  at  her 
began  to  push  and  hustle  and  pinch  and  punch  her. 

"  You  invite  your  fate,"  she  said  quietly. 

They  fell  furiously  upon  her,  drove  her  from  the  hall 
with  kicks  and  blows,  hustled  her  along  the  passage,  and 
threw  her  down  the  stair  to  the  wine-cellar,  then  locked 
the  door  at  the  top  of  it,  and  went  back  to  their  break- 
fast. 

In  the  meantime  the  king  and  the  princess  had  had 
their  bread  and  wine,  and  the  princess,  with  Curdie's 
help,  had  made  the  room  as  tidy  as  she  could — they  were 
terribly  neglected  by  the  servants.  And  now  Curdie  set 
himself  to  interest  and  amuse  the  king,  and  prevent 
him  from  thinking  too  much,  in  order  that  he  might  the 
sooner  think  the  better.  Presently,  at  his  majesty's  re- 
quest, he  began  from  the  beginning,  and  told  everything 
he  could  recall  of  his  life,  about  his  father  and  mother 


190  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

and  their  cottage  on  the  mountain,  of  the  inside  of  the 
mountain  and  the  work  there,  about  the  goblins  and  his 
adventures  with  them.  When  he  came  to  finding  the 
princess  and  her  nurse  overtaken  by  the  twilight  on  the 
mountain,  Irene  took  up  her  share  of  the  tale,  and  told 
all  about  herself  to  that  point,  and  then  Curdie  took  it 
up  again ;  and  so  they  went  on,  each  fitting  in  the  part 
that  the  other  did  not  know,  thus  keeping  the  hoop  of 
the  story  running  straight ;  and  the  king  listened  with 
wondering  and  delighted  ears,  astonished  to  find  what  he 
could  so  ill  comprehend,  yet  fitting  so  well  together  from 
the  lips  of  two  narrators.  At  last,  with  the  mission  given 
him  by  the  wonderful  princess  and  his  consequent  adven- 
tures, Curdie  brought  up  the  whole  tale  to  the  present 
moment.  Then  a  silence  fell,  and  Irene  and  Curdie 
thought  the  king  was  asleep.  But  he  was  far  from  it  j 
he  was  thinking  about  many  things.  After  a  long  pause 
he  said : — 

"  Now  at  last,  my  children,  I  am  compelled  to  believe 
many  things  I  could  not  and  do  not  yet  understand — 
things  I  used  to  hear,  and  sometimes  see,  as  often  as  I 
visited  my  mother's  home.  Once,  for  instance,  I  heard 
my  mother  say  to  her  father — speaking  of  me — '  He  is  a 
good,  honest  boy,  but  he  will  be  an  old  man  before  he 
understands ; '  and  my  grandfather  answered,  '  Keep  up 
your  heart,  child:  my  mother  will  look  after  him.'  I 


THE  PROPHECY.  191 

thought  often  of  their  words,  and  the  many  strange  things 
besides  I  both  heard  and  saw  in  that  house ;  but  ly 
degrees,  because  I  could  not  understand  them,  1 
gave  up  thinking  of  them.  And  indeed  I  had  almost 
forgotten  them,  when  you,  my  child,  talking  that  day  about 
the  Queen  Irene  and  her  pigeons,  and  what  you  had 
seen  in  her  garret,  brought  them  all  back  to  my  mind  in 
a  vague  mass.  But  now  they  keep  coming  back  to  me, 
one  by  one,  every  one  for  itself;  and  I  shall  just  hold 
my  peace,  and  lie  here  quite  still,  and  think  about  them 
all  till  I  get  well  again." 

What  he  meant  they  could  not  quite  understand,  but 
they  saw  plainly  that  already  he  was  better. 

"  Put  away  my  crown,"  he  said.  "  I  am  tired  of 
seeing  it,  and  have  no  more  any  fear  of  its  safety." 

They  put  it  away  together,  withdrew  from  the  bedside, 
and  left  him  in  peace. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   AVENGERS. 

HERE  was  nothing  now  to  be  dreaded  from 
Dr.  Kelman,  but  it  made  Curdie  anxious, 
as  the  evening  drew  near,  to  think  that 
a  soul  belonging  to  the  court  had 
been  to  visit  the  king,  or  ask  how  he  did,  that  day. 
He  feared,  in  some  shape  or  other,  a  more  determined 
assault.  He  had  provided  himself  a  place  in  the  room, 
to  which  he  might  retreat  upon  approach,  and  whence 
he  could  watch ;  but  not  once  had  he  had  to  betake 
himself  to  it 

Towards  night  the  king  fell  asleep.  Curdie  thought 
more  and  more  uneasily  of  the  moment  when  he  must 
again  leave  them  for  a  little  while.  Deeper  and  deeper 
fell  the  shadows.  No  one  came  to  light  the  lamp. 
The  princess  drew  her  chair  close  to  Curdie  :  she  would 
rather  it  were  not  so  dark,  she  said.  She  was  afraid  of 
something — she  could  not  tell  what ;  nor  could  she  give 


THE  AVENGERS.  193 

any  reason  for  her  fear  but  that  all  was  so  dreadfully  still 
When  it  had  been  dark  about  an  hour,  Curdie  thought 
Lina  might  be  returned ;  and  reflected  that  the  sooner 
he  went  the  less  danger  was  there  of  any  assault 
while  he  was  away.  There  was  more  risk  of  his  own 
presence  being  discovered,  no  doubt,  but  things  were 
now  drawing  to  a  crisis,  and  it  must  be  run.  So,  telling 
the  princess  to  lock  all  the  doors  of  the  bedchamber,  and 
let  no  one  in,  he  took  his  mattock,  and  with  here  a  run, 
and  there  a  halt  under  cover,  gained  the  door  at  the  head 
of  the  cellar-stair  in  safety.  To  his  surprise  he  found  it 
locked,  and  .the  key  was  gone.  There  was  no  time  for 
deliberation.  He  felt  where  the  lock  was,  and  dealt  it 
a  tremendous  blow  with  his  mattock.  It  needed  but  a 
second  to  dash  the  door  open.  Some  one  laid  a  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  said  Curdie, 

"  I  told  you  they  wouldn't  believe  me,  sir,"  said  the 
housemaid.  "  I  have  been  here  all  day." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  said,  "  You  are  a  good,  brave 
girl.  Now  come  with  me,  lest  your  enemies  imprison  you 
again." 

He  took  her  to  the  cellar,  locked  the  door,  lighted  a 
bit  of  candle,  gave  her  a  little  wine,  told  her  to  wait  there 
till  he  came,  and  went  out  the  back  way. 

Swiftly  he  swung  himself  up  into  the  dungeon.     Lina 
17 


194  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

had  done  her  part.  The  place  was  swarming  with  crea- 
tures— animal  forms  wilder  and  more  grotesque  than  ever 
ramped  in  nightmare  dream.  Close  by  the  hole,  waiting 
his  coming,  her  green  eyes  piercing  the  gulf  below,  Lina 
had  but  just  laid  herself  down  when  he  appeared.  All 
about  the  vault  and  up  the  slope  of  the  rubbish-heap  lay 
and  stood  and  squatted  the  forty-nine  whose  friendship 
Lina  had  conquered  in  the  wood.  They  all  came 
crowding  about  Curdie. 

He  must  get  them  into  the  cellar  as  quickly  as  ever  he 
could.  But  when  he  looked  at  the  size  of  some  of  them, 
he  feared  it  would  be  a  long  business  to  enlarge  the  hole 
sufficiently  to  let  them  through.  At  it  he  rushed,  hitting 
vigorously  at  its  edge  with  his  mattock.  At  the  very  first 
blow  came  a  splash  from  the  water  beneath,  but  ere  he 
could  heave  a  third,  a  creature  like  a  tapir,  only  that  the 
grasping  point  of  its  proboscis  was  hard  as  the  steel  of 
Curdie's  hammer,  pushed  him  gently  aside,  making  room 
for  another  creature,  with  a  head  like  a  great  club,  which 
it  began  banging  upon  the  floor  with  terrible  force  and 
noise.  After  about  a  minute  of  this  battery,  the 
tapir  came  up  again,  shoved  Clubhead  aside,  and 
putting  its  own  head  into  the  hole  began  gnawing 
at  the  sides  of  it  with  the  finger  of  its  nose,  in 
such  a  fashion  that  the  fragments  fell  in  a  continuous 
gravelly  shower  into  the  water.  In  a  few  minutes  the 


THE  A  VENGERS.  195 

opening  was  large  enough  for  the  biggest  creature 
amongst  them  to  get  through  it. 

Next  came  the  difficulty  of  letting  them  down  :  some 
were  quite  light,  but  the  half  of  them  were  too  heavy  for 
the  rope,  not  to  say  for  his  arms.  The  creatures  them- 
selves seemed  to  be  puzzling  where  or  how  they  were  to 
go.  One  after  another  of  them  came  up,  looked  down 
through  the  hole,  and  drew  back.  Curdie  thought  if  he 
let  Lina  down,  perhaps  that  would  suggest  something; 
possibly  they  did  not  see  the  opening  on  the  other  side. 
He  did  so,  and  Lina  stood  lighting  up  the  entrance  of 
the  passage  with  her  gleaming  eyes.  One  by  one  the 
creatures  looked  down  again,  and  one  by  one  they  drew 
back,  each  standing  aside  to  glance  at  the  next,  as  if  to 
say,  Now  you  have  a  look.  At  last  it  came  to  the  turn 
of  the  serpent  with  the  long  body,  the  four  short  legs 
behind,  and  the  little  wings  before.  No  sooner  had  he 
poked  his  head  through  than  he  poked  it  farther  through 
— and  farther,  and  farther  yet,  until  there  was  little  more 
than  his  legs  left  -in  the  dungeon.  By  that  time  he  had 
got  his  head  and  neck  well  into  the  passage  beside  Lina. 
Then  his  legs  gave  a  great  waddle  and  spring,  and  he 
tumbled  himself,  far  as  there  was  betwixt  them,  heels 
over  head  into  the  passage. 

"  That  is  all  very  well  for  you,  Mr.  Legserpent  1 " 


I  $6  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

thought  Curdle  to  himself;  "but  what  is  to  be  done 
with  the  rest?" 

He  had  hardly  time  to  think  it  however,  before  the 
creature's  head  appeared  again  through  the  floor.  He 
caught  hold  of  the  bar  of  iron  to  which  Curdie's  rope 
was  tied,  and  settling  it  securely  across  the  narrowest 
part  of  the  irregular  opening,  held  fast  to  it  with  his 
teeth.  It  was  plain  to  Curdie,  from  the  universal  hard- 
ness amongst  them,  that  they  must  all,  at  one  time  or 
another,  have  been  creatures  of  the  mines. 

He  saw  at  once  what  this  one  was  after.  He  had 
planted  his  feet  firmly  upon  the  floor  of  the  passage,  and 
stretched  his  long  body  up  and  across  the  chasm  to  serve 
as  a  bridge  for  the  rest.  He  mounted  instantly  upon  his 
neck,  threw  his  arms  round  him  as  far  as  they  would  go, 
and  slid  down  in  ease  and  safety,  the  bridge  just  bending 
a  little  as  his  weight  glided  over  it.  But  he  thought 
some  of  the  creatures  would  try  his  teeth. 

One  by  one  the  oddities  followed,  and  slid  down  in 
safety.  When  they  seemed  to  be  all  landed,  he  counted 
them  :  there  were  but  forty-eight.  Up  the  rope  again  he 
went,  and  found  one  which  had  been  afraid  to  trust  him- 
self to  the  bridge,  and  no  wonder  !  for  he  had  neither  legs 
nor  head  nor  arms  nor  tail :  he  was  just  a  round  thing, 
about  a  foot  in  diameter,  with  a  nose  and  mouth  and  eyes 
on  one  side  of  the  ball  He  had  made  his  journey  by 


THE  AVENGERS.  197 

rolling  as  swiftly  as  the  fleetest  of  them  could  run.  The 
back  of  the  legserpent  not  being  flat,  he  could  not  quite 
trust  himself  to  roll  straight  and  not  drop  into  the  gulf. 
Curdie  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  the  moment  he  looked 
down  through  the  hole,  the  bridge  made  itself  again,  and  he 
slid  into  the  passage  in  safety,  with  Ballbody  in  his  bosom. 

He  ran  first  to  the  cellar,  to  warn  the  girl  not  to  be 
frightened  at  the  avengers  of  wickedness.  Then  he 
called  to  Lina  to  bring  in  her  friends. 

One  after  another  they  came  trooping  in,  till  the  cellar 
seemed  full  of  them.  The  housemaid  regarded  them 
without  fear. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  there  is  one  of  the  pages  I  don't 
take  to  be  a  bad  fellow." 

"  Then  keep  him  near  you,"  said  Curdie.  "  And  now 
can  you  show  me  a  way  to  the  king's  chamber  not  through 
the  servants'  hall  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  way  through  the  chamber  of  the  colonel 
of  the  guard,"  she  answered,  "  but  he  is  ill,  and  in  bed." 

"  Take  me  that  way,"  said  Curdie. 

By  many  ups  and  downs  and  windings  and  turnings 
she  brought  him  to  a  dimly-lighted  room,  where  lay  an 
elderly  man  asleep.  His  arm  was  outside  the  coverlid, 
and  Curdie  gave  his  hand  a  hurried  grasp  as  he  went  by. 
His  heart  beat  for  joy,  for  he  had  found  a  good,  honest 
human  hand. 


19* 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 


"  I  suppose  that  is  why  he  is  ill,"  he  said  to  himself. 

It  was  now  close  upon  supper-time,  and  when  the  girl 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  king's  chamber,  he  told  her  to 
go  and  give  the  servants  one  warning  more. 

"  Say  the  messenger  sent  you,"  he  said.  "  I  will  be 
with  you  very  soon." 

The  king  was  still  asleep.  Curdie  talked  to  the  prin- 
cess for  a  few  minutes,  told  her  not  to  be  frightened 
whatever  noises  she  heard,  only  to  keep  her  door  locked 
till  he  came,  and  left  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

THE  VENGEANCE. 

!Y  the  time  the  girl  reached  the  servants' 
hall  they  were  seated  at  supper.  A  loud, 
confused  exclamation  arose  when  she  en- 
tered. No  one  made  room  for  her;  all 
stared  with  unfriendly  eyes.  A  page, who  entered  the 
next  minute  by  another  door,  came  to  her  side. 

"Where  do  you  come  from,  hussy?"  shouted  the 
butler,  and  knocked  his  fist  on  the  table  with  a  loud 
clang. 

He  had  gone  to  fetch  wine,  had  found  the  stair  door 
broken  open  and  the  cellar-door  locked,  and  had  turned 
and  fled.  Amongst  his  fellows,  however,  he  had  now 
regained  what  courage  could  be  called  his. 

"  From  the  cellar,"  she  replied.      "  The  messenger 
broke  open  the  door,  and  sent  me  to  you  again." 
"The  messenger  !     Pooh  !  What  messenger?  " 


200  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  The  same  who  sent  me  before  to  tell  you  to  repent." 

"  What !  will  you  go  fooling  it  still  ?  Haven't  you  had 
enough  of  it  ?  "  cried  the  butler  in  a  rage,  and  starting  to 
his  feet,  drew  near  threateningly. 

"  I  must  do  as  I  am  told,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Then  why  dorift  you  do  as  /  tell  you,  and  hold  your 
tongue?"  said  the  butler.  "Who  wants  your  preach- 
ments? If  anybody  here  has  anything  to  repent  of, 
isn't  that  enough — and  more  than  enough  for  him — but 
you  must  come  bothering  about,  and  stirring  up,  till  not 
a  drop  of  quiet  will  settle  inside  him  ?  You  come  along 
with  me,  young  woman  ;  we'll  see  if  we  can't  find  a  lock 
somewhere  in  the  house  that  '11  hold  you  in  ! " 

"  Hands  off,  Mr.  Butler  ! "  said  the  page,  and  stepped 
between. 

"  Oh,  ho  ! "  cried  the  butler,  and  pointed  his  fat  finger 
at  him.  "  That's  you,  is  it,  my  fine  fellow  ?  So  it's  you 
that's  up  to  her  tricks,  is  it  ?  " 

The  youth  did  not  answer,  only  stood  with  flashing 
eyes  fixed  on  him,  until,  growing  angrier  and  angrier,  but 
not  daring  a  step  nearer,  he  burst  out  with  rude  but 
quavering  authority, — 

"  Leave  the  house,  both  of  you  !  Be  cff,  or  I'll  have 
Mr.  Steward  to  talk  to  you.  Threaten  your  masters, 
indeed  !  Out  of  the  house  with  you,  and  show  us  the 
way  you  tell  us  of  I 


THE  VENGEANCE.  201 

Two  or  three  of  the  footmen  got  up  and  ranged  them- 
selves behind  the  butler. 

"  Don't  say  /  threaten  you,  Mr.  Butler,"  expostulated 
the  girl  from  behind  the  page.  "  The  messenger  said  I 
was  to  tell  you  again,  and  give  you  one  chance  more." 

"  Did  the  messenger  mention  me  in  particular  ?  "  asked 
the  butler,  looking  the  page  unsteadily  in  the  face. 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  the  girl 

"  I  thought  not !    I  should  like  to  hear  him  ! " 

"  Then  hear  him  now,"  said  Curdie,  who  that  moment 
entered  at  the  opposite  corner  of  the  hall.  "  I  speak 
of  the  butler  in  particular  when  I  say  that  I  know 
more  evil  of  him  than  of  any  of  the  rest.  He  will  not 
let  either  his  own  conscience  or  my  messenger  speak  to 
him  :  I  therefore  now  speak  myself.  I  proclaim  him 
a  villain,  and  a  traitor  to  his  majesty  the  king. — But 
what  better  is  any  one  of  you  who  cares  only  for  himself, 
eats,  drinks,  takes  good  money,  and  gives  vile  service  in 
return,  stealing  and  wasting  the  king's  property,  and 
making  of  the  palace,  which  ought  to  be  an  example  of 
order  and  sobriety,  a  disgrace  to  the  country  ?  " 

For  a  moment  all  stood  astonished  into  silence  by  this 
bold  speech  from  a  stranger.  True,  they  saw  by  his 
mattock  over  his  shoulder  that  he  was  nothing  but  a  miner 
boy,  yet  for  a  moment  the  truth  told  notwithstanding. 
Then  a  great  roaring  laugh  burst  from  the  biggest  of  the 


202  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

footmen  as  he  came  shouldering  his  way  through  the 
crowd  towards  Curdie. 

"  Yes,  I'm  right,"  he  cried ;  "  I  thought  as  much  ! 
This  messenger,  forsooth,  is  nothing  but  a  gallows-bird — a 
fellow  the  city  marshal  was  going  to  hang,  but  un- 
fortunately put  it  off  till  he  should  be  starved  enough  to 
save  rope  and  be  throttled  with  a  pack-thread.  He 
broke  prison,  and  here  he  is  preaching  ! " 

As  he  spoke,  he  stretched  out  his  great  hand  to  lay  hold 
of  him.  Curdie  caught  it  in  his  left  hand,  and  heaved 
his  mattock  with  the  olher.  Finding,  however,  nothing 
worse  than  an  ox-hoof,-  he  restrained  himself,  stepped 
back  a  pace  or  two,  shifted  his  mattock  to  his  left  hand, 
and  struck  him  a  little  smart  blow  on  the  shoulder.  His 
arm  dropped  by  his  side,  he  gave  a  roar,  and  drew 
back. 

His  fellows  came  crowding  upon  Curdie.  Some 
called  to  the  dogs ;  others  swore  ;  the  women  screamed ; 
the  footmen  and  pages  got  round  him  in  a  half-circle, 
which  he  kept  from  closing  by  swinging  his  mattock,  and 
here  and  there  threatening  a  blow. 

"  Whoever  confesses  to  having  done  anything  wrong 
in  this  house,  however  small,  however  great,  and  means 
to  do  better,  let  him  come  to  this  corner  of  the  room," 
he  cried. 

None  moved  but  the  page,  who  went  towards  him 


THE  VENGEANCE.  203 

skirting  the  wall  When  they  caught  sight  of  him,  the 
crowd  broke  into  a  hiss  of  derision. 

"  There  !  see  !  Look  at  the  sinner  !  He  confesses  ! 
actually  confesses  !  Come,  what  is  it  you  stole  ?  The 
barefaced  hypocrite  !  There's  your  sort  to  set  up  for  re- 
proving other  people  !  Where's  the  other  now  ?  " 

But  the  maid  had  left  the  room,  and  they  let  the  page 
pass,  for  he  looked  dangerous  to  stop.  Curdie  had  just 
put  him  betwixt  him  and  the  wall,  behind  the  door,  when 
in  rushed  the  butler  with  the  huge  kitchen  poker,  the 
point  of  which  he  had  blown  red-hot  in  the  fire,  followed 
by  the  cook  with  his  longest  spit.  Through  the  crowd, 
which  scattered  right  and  left  before  them,  they  came 
down  upon  Curdie.  Uttering  a  shrill  whistle,  he  caught 
the  poker  a  blow  with  his  mattock,  knocking  the  point  to 
the  ground,  while  the  page  behind  him  started  forward, 
and  seizing  the  point  of  the  spit,  held  on  to  it  with  both 
hands,  the  cook  kicking  him  furiously. 

Ere  the  butler  could  raise  the  poker  again,  or  the  cook 
recover  the  spit,  with  a  roar  to  terrify  the  dead,  Lina 
dashed  into  the  room,  her  eyes  flaming  like  candles. 
She  went  straight  at  the  butler.  He  was  down  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  she  on  the  top  of  him,  wagging  her  tail 
over  him  like  a  lioness. 

"  Don't  kill  him,  Lina,"  said  Curdie, 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Miner  ! "  cried  the  butler. 


204  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"Put  your  foot  on  his  mouth,  Lina,"  said  Curdie. 
"  The  truth  Fear  tells  is  not  much  better  than  her  lies." 

The  rest  of  the  creatures  now  came  stalking,  rolling, 
leaping,  gliding,  hobbling  into  the  room,  and  each  as  he 
came  took  the  next  place  along  the  wall,  until,  solemn 
and  grotesque,  all  stood  ranged,  awaiting  orders. 

And  now  some  of  the  culprits  were  stealing  to  the 
doors  nearest  them.  Curdie  whispered  the  two  creatures 
next  him.  Off  went  Ballbody,  rolling  and  bounding 
through  the' crowd  like  a  spent  cannon  shot,  and  when 
the  foremost  reached  the  door  to  the  corridor,  there  he 
lay  at  the  foot  of  it  grinning ;  to  the  other  door  scuttled 
a  scorpion,  as  big  as  a  huge  crab.  The  rest  stood  so 
still  that  some  began  to  think  they  were  only  boys 
dressed  up  to  look  awful ;  they  persuaded  themselves 
they  were  only  another  part  of  the  housemaid  and  page's 
vengeful  contrivance,  and  their  evil  spirits  began  to  rise 
again.  Meantime  Curdie  had,  with  a  second  sharp  blow 
from  the  hammer  of  his  mattock,  disabled  the  cook,  so 
that  he  yielded  the  spit  with  a  groan.  He  now  turned  to 
the  avengers. 

"  Go  at  them,"  he  said. 

The  whole  nine-and-forty  obeyed  at  once,  each  for 
himself,  and  after  his  own  fashion.  A  scene  of  confusion 
and  terror  followed.  The  crowd  scattered  like  a  dance 
of  flies.  The  creatures  had  been  instructed  not  to  hurt 


"A  scene  of  confusion  and  terror  followed :    the  crowd  scattered  like  a 
dance  of  flics"  Page  204, 


THE  VENGEANCE.  205 

much,  but  to  hunt  incessantly,  until  every  one  had  rushed 
from  the  house.  The  women  shrieked,  and  ran  hither 
and  thither  through  the  hall,  pursued  each  by  her  own 
horror,  and  snapped  at  by  every  other  in  passing.  If  one 
threw  herself  down  in  hysterical  despair,  she  was  instantly 
poked  or  clawed  or  nibbled  up  again.  Though  they  were 
quite  as  frightened  at  first,  the  men  did  not  run  so  fast; 
and  by-and-by  some  of  them,  finding  they  were  only 
glared  at,  and  followed,  and  pushed,  began  to  summon 
up  courage  once  more,  and  with  courage  came  impu- 
dence. The  tapir  had  the  big  footman  in  charge  :  the 
fellow  stood  stock-still,  and  let  the  beast  come  up  to  him, 
then  put  out  his  finger  and  playfully  patted  his  nose. 
The  tapir  gave  the  nose  a  little  twist,  and  the  finger  lay 
on  the  floor.  Then  indeed  the  footman  ran,  and  did 
more  than  run,  but  nobody  heeded  his  cries.  Gradually 
the  avengers  grew  more  severe,  and  the  terrors  of  the 
imagination  were  fast  yielding  to  those  of  sensuous 
experience,  when  a  page,  perceiving  one  of  the  doors  no 
longer  guarded,  sprang  at  it,  and  ran  out.  Another  and 
another  followed.  Not  a  beast  went  after,  until,  one  by 
one,  they  were  every  one  gone  from  the  hall,  and  the 
whole  menie  in  the  kitchen.  There  they  were  beginning 
to  congratulate  themselves  that  all  was  over,  when  in 
came  the  creatures  trooping  after  them,  and  the  second 
act  of  their  terror  and  pain  began.  They  were  flung 

18 


206  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

about  in  all  directions ;  their  clothes  were  torn  from 
them;  they  were  pinched  and  scratched  any  and  every- 
where ;  Ballbody  kept  rolling  up  them  and  over  them, 
confining  his  attentions  to  no  one  in  particular ;  the 
scorpion  kept  grabbing  at  their  legs  with  his  huge  pincers ; 
a  three-foot  centipede  kept  screwing  up  their  bodies, 
nipping  as  he  went ;  varied  as  numerous  were  their  woes. 
Nor  was  it  long  before  the  last  of  them  had  fled  from 
the  kitchen  to  the  sculleries.  But  thither  also  they  were 
followed,  and  there  again  they  were  hunted  about.  They 
were  bespattered  with  the  dirt  of  their  own  neglect ;  they 
were  soused  in  the  stinking  water  that  had  boiled  greens  ; 
they  were  smeared  with  rancid  dripping;  their  faces 
were  rubbed  in  maggots  :  I  dare  not  tell  all  that  was  done 
to  them.  At  last  they  got  the  door  into  a  back-yard 
open,  and  rushed  out.  Then  first  they  knew  that  the 
wind  was  howling  and  the  rain  falling  in  sheets.  But 
there  was  no  rest  for  them  even  there.  Thither  also  were 
they  followed  by  the  inexorable  avengers,  and  the  only 
door  here  was  a  door  out  of  the  palace  :  out  every  soul 
of  them  was  driven,  and  left,  some  standing,  some  lying, 
some  crawling,  to  the  farther  buffeting  of  the  waterspouts 
and  whirlwinds  ranging  every  street  of  the  city.  The 
door  was  flung  to  behind  them,  and  they  heard  it  locked 
and  bolted  and  barred  against  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MORE  VENGEANCE. 

soon  as  they  were  gone,  Curdie  brought 
the  creatures  back  to  the  servants'  hall, 
and  told  them  to  eat  up  everything  on 
the  table.  It  was  a  sight  to  see  them  all 
standing  round  it — except  such  as  had  to  get  upon  it — 
eating  and  drinking,  each  after  its  fashion,  without  a 
smile,  or  a  word,  or  a  glance  of  fellowship  in  the  act. 
A  very  few  moments  served  to  make  everything  eat- 
able vanish,  and  then  Curdie  requested  them  to  clean  the 
house,  and  the  page  who  stood  by  to  assist  them. 

Every  one  set  about  it  except  Ballbody  :  he  could  do 
nothing  at  cleaning,  for  the  more  he  rolled,  the  more  he 
spread  the  dirt.  Curdie  was  curious  to  know  what  he 
had  been,  and  how  he  had  come  to  be  such  as  he  was ; 
but  he  could  only  conjecture  that  he  was  a  gluttonous 
alderman  whom  nature  had  treated  homceopathically. 


2o8  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

And  now  there  was  such  a  cleaning  and  clearing  out 
of  neglected  places,  such  a  burying  and  burning  of  refuse, 
such  a  rinsing  of  jugs,  such  a  swilling  of  sinks,  and  such 
a  flushing  of  drains,  as  would  have  delighted  the  eyes  of 
all  true  housekeepers  and  lovers  of  cleanliness  generally. 

Curdie  meantime  was  with  the  king,  telling  him  all  he 
had  done.  They  had  heard  a  little  noise,  but  not  much, 
for  he  had  told  the  avengers  to  repress  outcry  as  much  as 
possible ;  and  they  had  seen  to  it  that  the  more  any  one 
cried  out  the  more  he  had  to  cry  out  upon,  while  the 
patient  ones  they  scarcely  hurt  at  all. 

Having  promised  his  majesty  and  her  royal  highness  a 
good  breakfast,  Curdie  now  went  to  finish  the  business. 
The  courtiers  must  be  dealt  with.  A  few  who  were  the 
worst,  and  the  leaders  of  the  rest,  must  be  made  exam- 
ples of;  the  others  should  be  driven  from  their  beds  to 
the  street. 

He  found  the  chiefs  of  the  conspiracy  holding  a  final 
consultation  in  the  smaller  room  off  the  hall.  These 
were  the  lord  chamberlain,  the  attorney-general,  the 
master  of  the  horse,  and  the  king's  private  secretary  :  the 
lord  chancellor  and  the  rest,  as  foolish  as  faithless, 
were  but  the  tools  of  these. 

The  housemaid  had  shown  him  a  little  closet,  opening 
from  a  passage  behind,  where  he  could  overhear  all  that 
passed  in  that  room ;  and  now  Curdie  heard  enough  to 


MORE    VENGEANCE.  209 

understand  that  they  had  determined,  in  the  dead  of  that 
night,  rather  in  the  deepest  dark  before  the  morning,  to 
bring  a  certain  company  of  soldiers  into  the  palace,  make 
away  with  the  king,  secure  the  princess,  announce  the 
sudden  death  of  his  majesty,  read  as  his  the  will  they  had 
drawn  up,  and  proceed  to  govern  the  country  at  their 
ease,  and  with  results  :  they  would  at  once  levy  severer 
taxes,  and  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  most  powerful  of  their 
neighbours.  Everything  settled,  they  agreed  to  retire, 
and  have  a  few  hours'  quiet  sleep  first — all  but  the  secre- 
tary, who  was  to  sit  up  and  call  them  at  the  proper 
moment.  Curdie  stole  away,  allowed  them  half  an  hour 
to  get  to  bed,  and  then  set  about  completing  his  purga- 
tion of  the  palace. 

First  he  called  Una,  and  opened  the  door  of  the  room 
where  the  secretary  sat.  She  crept  in,  and  laid  herself 
down  against  it  When  the  secretary,  rising  to  stretch 
his  legs,  caught  sight  of  her  eyes,  he  stood  frozen  with 
terror.  She  made  neither  motion  nor  sound.  Gathering 
courage,  and  taking  the  thing  for  a  spectral  illusion, 
he  made  a  step  forward.  She  showed  her  other  teeth, 
with  a  growl  neither  more  than  audible  nor  less  than 
horrible.  The  secretary  sank  fainting  into  a  chair.  He 
was  not  a  brave  man,  and  besides,  his  conscience  had  gone 
over  to  the  enemy,  and  was  sitting  against  the  door  by 
Lina, 


zio  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

To  the  lord  chamberlain's  door  next,  Curdle  con- 
ducted the  legserpent,  and  let  him  in. 

Now  his  lordship  had  had  a  bedstead  made  for  him- 
self, sweetly  fashioned  of  rods  of  silver  gilt :  upon  it  the 
legserpent  found  him  asleep,  and  under  it  he  crept.  But 
out  he  came  on  the  other  side,  and  crept  over  it  next,  and 
again  under  it,  and  so  over  it,  under  it,  over  it,  five  or  six 
times,  every  time  leaving  a  coil  of  himself  behind  him,  until 
he  had  softly  folded  all  his  length  about  the  lord  cham- 
berlain and  his  bed.  This  done,  he  set  up  his  head,  look- 
ing down  with  curved  neck  right  over  his  lordship's,  and 
began  to  hiss  in  his  face.  He  woke  in  terror  unspeak- 
able, and  would  have  started  up ;  but  the  moment  he 
• 

moved,  the  legserpent  drew  his  coils  closer,  and  closer 
still,  and  drew  and  drew  until  the  quaking  traitor  heard 
the  joints  of  his  beadstead  grinding  and  gnarring.  Pre- 
sently he  persuaded  himself  that  it  was  only  a  horrid 
nightmare,  and  began  to  struggle  with  all  his  strength  to 
throw  it  off.  Thereupon  the  legserpent  gave  his  hooked 
nose  such  a  bite,  that  his  teeth  met  through  it — but  it 
was  hardly  thicker  than  the  bowl  of  a  spoon  ;  and  then 
the  vulture  knew  that  he  was  in  the  grasp  of  his  enemy 
the  snake,  and  yielded.  As  soon  as  he  was  quiet  the 
legserpent  began  to  untwist  and  retwist,  to  uncoil  and 
recoil  himself,  swinging  and  swaying,  knotting  and 
relaxing  himself  with  strangest  curves  and  convolutions, 


MORE  VENGEANCE.  211 

always,  however,  leaving  at  least  one  coil  around  his 
victim.  At  last  he  undid  himself  entirely,  and  crept 
from  the  bed.  Then  first  the  lord  chamberlain  dis- 
covered that  his  tormentor  had  bent  and  twisted  the  bed- 
stead, legs  and  canopy  and  all,  so  about  him,  that  he 
was  shut  in  a  silver  cage  out  of  which  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  find  a  way.  Once  more,  thinking  his  enemy 
was  gone,  he  began  to  shout  for  help.  But  the  instant  he 
opened  his  mouth  his  keeper  darted  at  him  and  bithim,and 
after  three  or  four  such  essays,  with  like  result,  he  lay  still. 

The  master  of  the  horse  Curdie  gave  in  charge  to  the 
tapir.  When  the  soldier  saw  him  enter — for  he  was  not 
yet  asleep — he  sprang  from  his  bed,  and  flew  at  him  with 
his  sword.  But  the  creature's  hide  was  invulnerable  to 
his  blows,  and  he  pecked  at  his  legs  with  his  proboscis 
until  he  jumped  into  bed  again,  groaning,  and  covered 
himself  up  ;  after  which  the  tapir  contented  himself  with 
now  and  then  paying  a  visit  to  his  toes. 

For  the  attorney-general,  Curdie  led  to  his  door  a  huge 
spider,  about  two  feet  long  in  the  body,  which,  having 
made  an  excellent  supper,  was  full  of  webbing.  The 
attorney-general  had  not  gone  to  bed,  but  sat  in  a  chair 
asleep  before  a  great  mirror.  He  had  been  trying  the 
effect  of  a  diamond  star  which  he  had  that  morning  taken 
from  the  jewel-room.  When  he  woke  he  fancied  himself 
paralysed ;  every  limb,  every  finger  even,  was  motionless : 


212  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

coils  and  coils  of  broad  spider-ribbon  bandaged  his  mem- 
bers to  his  body,  and  all  to  the  chair.  In  the  glass  he 
saw  himself  wound  about,  under  and  over  and  around, 
with  slavery  infinite.  On  a  footstool  a  yard  off  sat  the 
spider  glaring  at  him. 

Clubhead  had  mounted  guard  over  the  butler,  where 
he  lay  tied  hand  and  foot  under  the  third  cask.  From 
that  cask  he  had  seen  the  wine  run  into  a  great  bath,  and 
therein  he  expected  to  be  drowned.  The  doctor,  with 
his  crushed  leg,  needed  no  one  to  guard  him. 

And  now  Curdie  proceeded  to  the  expulsion  of  the 
rest.  Great  men  or  underlings,  he  treated  them  all 
alike.  From  room  to  room  over  the  house  he  went,  and 
sleeping  or  waking  took  the  man  by  the  hand.  Such  was 
the  state  to  which  a  year  of  wicked  rule  had  reduced  the 
moral  condition  of  the  court,  that  in  it  all  he  found  but 
three  with  human  hands.  The  possessors  of  these  he 
allowed  to  dress  themselves  and  depart  in  peace.  When 
they  perceived  his  mission,  and  how  he  was  backed,  they 
yielded  without  dispute. 

Then  commenced  a  general  hunt,  to  clear  the  house  of 
the  vermin.  Out  of  their  beds  in  their  night-clothing, 
out  of  their  rooms,  gorgeous  chambers  or  garret  nooks,  the 
creatures  hunted  them.  Not  one  was  allowed  to  escape. 
Tumult  and  noise  there  was  little,  for  the  fear  was 
too  deadly  for  outcry.  Ferreting  them  out  every w here, 


MORE  VENGEANCE.  213 

following  them  upstairs  and  downstairs,  yielding  no  instant 
of  repose  except  upon  the  way  out,  the  avengers  perse- 
cuted the  miscreants,  until  the  last  of  them  was  shivering 
outside  the  palace  gates,  with  hardly  sense  enough  left  to 
know  where  to  turn. 

When  they  set  out  to  look  for  shelter,  they  found  every 
inn  full  of  the  servants  expelled  before  them,  and  not  one 
would  yield  his  place  to  a  superior  suddenly  levelled  with 
himself.  Most  houses  refused  to  admit  them  on  the 
ground  of  the  wickedness  that  must  have  drawn  on 
them  such  a  punishment ;  and  not  a  few  would  have  been 
left  in  the  streets  all  night,  had  not  Derba,  roused  by  the 
vain  entreaties  at  the  doors  on  each  side  of  her  cottage, 
opened  hers,  and  given  up  everything  to  them.  The 
lord  chancellor  was  only  too  glad  to  share  a  mattress 
with  a  stable-boy,  and  steal  his  bare  feet  under  his 
jacket. 

In  the  morning  Curdie  appeared,  and  the  outcasts  were 
in  terror,  thinking  he  had  come  after  them  again.  But 
he  took  no  notice  of  them  :  his  object  was  to  request 
Derba  to  go  to  the  palace  :  the  king  required  her  services. 
She  needed  take  no  trouble  about  her  cottage,  he  said  ; 
the  palace  was  henceforward  her  home  :  she  was  the 
king's  chastelaine  over  men  and  maidens  of  his  house- 
hold. And  this  very  morning  she  must  cook  his  majesty 
a  nice  breakfast. 


CHAPTER    XXVIIL 

THE   PREACHER. 

'ARIOUS  reports  went  undulating  through 
the  city  as  to  the  nature  of  what  had 
taken  place  in  the  palace.  The  people 
gathered,  and  stared  at  the  house,  eyeing 
it  as  if  it  had  sprung  up  in  the  night.  But  it  looked 
sedate  enough,  remaining  closed  and  silent,  like  a 
house  that  was  dead.  They  saw  no  one  come  out  or 
go  in.  Smoke  rose  from  a  chimney  or  two ;  there  was 
hardly  another  sign  of  life.  It  was  not  for  some  little 
time  generally  understood  that  the  highest  officers  of  the 
crown  as  well  as  the  lowest  menials  of  the  palace  had 
been  dismissed  in  disgrace  :  for  who  was  to  recognise 
a  lord  chancellor  in  his  night-shirt?  and  what  lord 
chancellor  would,  so  attired  in  the  street,  proclaim  his 
rank  and  office  aloud  ?  Before  it  was  day  most  of  the 
courtiers  crept  down  to  the  river,  hired  boats,  and  betook 
themselves  to  their  homes  or  their  friends  in  the  country. 


THE  PREACHER.  215 

It  was  assumed  in  the  city  that  the  domestics  had  been 
discharged  upon  a  sudden  discovery  of  general  and  un- 
pardonable peculation ;  for,  almost  everybody  being 
guilty  of  it  himself,  petty  dishonesty  was  the  crime  most 
easily  credited  and  least  easily  passed  over  in  Gwynty- 
storm. 

Now  that  same  day  was  Religion  day,  and  not  a  few  of 
the  clergy,  always  glad  to  seize  on  any  passing  event  to 
give  interest  to  the  dull  and  monotonic  grind  of  their 
intellectual  machines,  made  this  remarkable  one  the 
ground  of  discourse  to  their  congregations.  More 
especially  than  the  rest,  the  first  priest  of  the  great  temple 
where  was  the  royal  pew,  judged  himself,  from  his  rela- 
tion to  the  palace,  called  upon  to  "  improve  the  occa- 
sion,"— for  they  talked  ever  about  improvement  at 
Gwyntystorm,  all  the  time  they  were  going  downhill  with 
a  rush. 

The  book  which  had,  of  late  years,  come  to  be  con- 
sidered the  most  sacred,  was  called  The  Book  of  Nations, 
and  consisted  of  proverbs,  and  history  traced  through 
custom  :  from  it  the  first  priest  chose  his  text ;  and  his 
text  was,  Honesty  is  the  best  Policy,  He  was  considered 
a  very  eloquent  man,  but  I  can  offer  only  a  few  of  the 
larger  bones  of  his  sermon.  The  main  proof  of  the  verity 
of  their  religion,  he  said,  was,  that  things  always  went 
well  with  those  who  professed  it ;  and  its  first  fundamental 


216  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

principle,  grounded  in  inborn  invariable  instinct,  was, 
that  every  One  should  take  care  of  that  One.  This  was 
the  first  duty  of  Man.  If  every  one  would  but  obey  this 
law,  number  one,  then  would  every  one  be  perfectly  cared 
for — one  being  always  equal  to  one.  But  the  faculty  of 
care  was  in  excess  of  need,  and  all  that  overflowed,  and 
would  otherwise  run  to  waste,  ought  to  be  gently  turned 
in  the  direction  of  one's  neighbour,  seeing  that  this  also 
wrought  for  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  inasmuch  as  the 
reaction  of  excess  so  directed  was  upon  the  director  of 
the  same,  to  the  comfort,  that  is,  and  well-being  of  the 
original  self.  To  be  just  and  friendly  was  to  build  the 
warmest  and  safest  of  all  nests,  and  to  be  kind  and  loving 
was  to  line  it  with  the  softest  of  all  furs  and  feathers,  for 
the  one  precious,  comfort-loving  self  there  to  lie,  revelling 
in  downiest  bliss.  One  of  the  laws  therefore  most  bind- 
ing upon  men  because  of  its  relation  to  the  first  and 
greatest  of  all  duties,  was  embodied  in  the  Proverb 
he  had  just  read  ;  and  what  stronger  proof  of  its  wisdom 
and  truth  could  they  desire  than  the  sudden  and  com- 
plete vengeance  which  had  fallen  upon  those  worse  than 
ordinary  sinners  who  had  offended  against  the  king's 
maje'sty  by  forgetting  that  Honesty  is  the  best  Policy  ? 

At  this  point  of  the  discourse  the  head  of  the  legser- 
pent  rose  from  the  floor  of  the  temple,  towering  above 
the  pulpit,  above  the  priest,  then  curving  downwards, 


THE  PREACHER.  217 

with  open  mouth  slowly  descended  upon  him.  Horror 
froze  the  sermon-pump.  He  stared  upwards  aghast 
The  great  teeth  of  the  animal  closed  upon  a  mouthful  of 
the  sacred  vestments,  and  slowly  he  lifted  the  preacher 
from  the  pulpit,  like  a  handful  of  linen  from  a  wash-tub, 
and,  on  his  four  solemn  stumps,  bore  him  out  of  the 
temple,  dangling  aloft  from  his  jaws.  At  the  back  of  it 
he  dropped  him  into  the  dust-hole  amongst  the  remnants 
of  a  library  whose  age  had  destroyed  its  value  in  the  eyes 
of  the  chapter.  They  found  him  burrowing  in  it,  a  luna- 
tic henceforth — whose  madness  presented  the  peculiar 
feature,  that  in  its  paroxysms  he  jabbered  sense. 

Bone-freezing  horror  pervaded  Gwyntystorm.  If  their 
best  and  wisest  were  treated  with  such  contempt,  what 
might  not  the  rest  of  them  look  for  ?  Alas  for  their  city  ! 
their  grandly  respectable  city !  their  loftily  reasonable  city ! 
Where  it  was  all  to  end,  the  Convenient  alone  could  tell ! 

But  something  must  be  done.  Hastily  assembling, 
the  priests  chose  a  new  first  priest,  and  in  full  conclave 
unanimously  declared  and  accepted,  that  the  king  in  his 
retirement  had,  through  the  practice  of  the  blackest  magic, 
turned  the  palace  into  a  nest  of  demons  in  the  midst  of 
them.  A  grand  exorcism  was  therefore  indispensable. 

In  the  meantime  the  fact  came  out  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  courtiers  had  been  dismissed  as  well  as  the 
servants,  and  this  fact  swelled  the  hope  of  the  Party  of 

19 


2i8  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

Decency,  as  they  called  themselves.  Upon  it  they  pro- 
ceeded to  act,  and  strengthened  themselves  on  all  sides. 

The  action  of  the  king's  body-guard  remained  for  a 
time  uncertain.  But  when  at  length  its  officers  were 
satisfied  that  both  the  master  of  the  horse  and  their 
colonel  were  missing,  they  placed  themselves  under  the 
orders  of  the  first  priest. 

Everyone  dated  the  culmination  of  the  evil  from  the 
visit  of  the  miner  and  his  mongrel  j  and  the  butchers 
vowed,  if  they  could  but  get  hold  of  them  again,  they 
would  roast  both  of  them  alive.  At  once  they  formed 
themselves  into  a  regiment,  and  put  their  dogs  in  training 
for  attack. 

Incessant  was  the  talk,  innumerable  were  the  sugges- 
tions, and  great  was  the  deliberation.  The  general 
consent,  however,  was  that  as  soon  as  the  priests  should 
have  expelled  the  demons,  they  would  depose  the  king, 
and,  attired  in  all  his  regal  insignia,  shut  him  in  a  cage 
for  public  show ;  then  choose  governors,  with  the  lord 
chancellor  at  their  head,  whose  first  duty  should  be  to 
remit  every  possible  tax ;  and  the  magistrates,  by  the 
mouth  of  the  city  marshal,  required  all  able-bodied  citi- 
zens, in  order  to  do  their  part  towards  the  carrying  out 
of  these  and  a  multitude  of  other  reforms,  to  be  ready 
to  take  arms  at  the  first  summons. 

Things  needful  were  prepared  as  speedily  as  possible, 


THE  PREACHER.  219 

and  a  mighty  ceremony,  in  the  temple,  in  the  market- 
place, and  in  front  of  the  palace,  was  performed  for  the 
expulsion  of  the  demons.  This  over,  the  leaders  retired 
to  arrange  an  attack  upon  the  palace. 

But  that  night  events  occurred  which,  proving  the 
failure  of  their  first,  induced  the  abandonment  of  their 
second  intent.  Certain  of  the  prowling  order  of  the 
community,  whose  numbers  had  of  late  been  steadily  on 
the  increase,  reported  frightful  things.  Demons  of 
indescribable  ugliness  had  been  espied  careering  through 
the  midnight  streets  and  courts.  A  citizen — some  said 
in  the  very  act  of  house-breaking,  but  no  one  cared  to 
look  into  trifles  at  such  a  crisis — had  been  seized  from 
behind,  he  could  not  see  by  what,  and  soused  in  the 
river.  A  well-known  receiver  of  stolen  goods  had  had 
his  shop  broken  open,  and  when  he  came  down  in  the 
morning  had  found  everything  in  ruin  on  the  pave- 
ment The  wooden  image  of  justice  over  the  door 
of  the  city  marshal  had  had  the  arm  that  held  the  sword 
bitten  off.  The  gluttonous  magistrate  had  been  pulled 
from  his  bed  in  the  dark,  by  beings  of  which  he  could 
see  nothing  but  the  flaming  eyes,  and  treated  to  a  bath 
of  the  turtle  soup  that  had  been  left  simmering  by  the 
side  of  the  kitchen  fire.  Having  poured  it  over  him,  they 
put  him  again  into  his  bed,  where  he  soon  learned  how 
a  mummy  must  feel  in  its  cerements.  Worst  of  all,  in 


220  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

the  market-pbce  was  fixed  up  a  paper,  with  the  king's 
own  signature,  to  the  effect  that  whoever  henceforth 
should  show  inhospitality  to  strangers,  and  should  be 
convicted  of  the  same,  should  be  instantly  expelled  the 
city ;  while  a  second,  in  the  butchers'  quarter,  ordained 
that  any  dog  which  henceforward  should  attack  a 
stranger  should  be  immediately  destroyed.  It  was  plain, 
said  the  butchers,  that  the  clergy  were  of  no  use ;  they 
could  not  exorcise  demons  !  That  afternoon,  catching 
sight  of  a  poor  old  fellow  in  rags  and  tatters,  quietly 
walking  up  the  street,  they  hounded  their  dogs  upon  him, 
and  had  it  not  been  that  the  door  of  Derba's  cottage  was 
standing  open,  and  was  near  enough  for  him  to  dart  in 
and  shut  it  ere  they  reached  him,  he  would  have  been 
torn  in  pieces.  ' 

And  thus  things  went  on  for  some  days. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

BARBARA. 

N  the  meantime,  with  Derba  to  minister  to 
his  wants,  with  Curdie  to  protect  him,  and 
Irene  to  nurse  him,  the  king  was  getting 
rapidly  stronger.  Good  food  was  what  he 
most  wanted,  and  of  that,  at  least  of  certain  kinds 
of  it,  there  was  plentiful  stcre  in  the  palace.  Every- 
where since  the  cleansing  of  the  lower  regions  of  it, 
the  air  was  clean  and  sweet,  and  under  the  honest 
hands  of  the  one  housemaid  the  king's  chamber 
became  a  pleasure  to  his  eyes.  With  such  changes 
it  was  no  wonder  if  his  heart  grew  lighter  as  well  as  his 
brain  clearer. 

But  still  evil  dreams  came  and  troubled  him,  the  linger- 
ing result  of  the  wicked  medicines  the  doctor  had  given 
him.  Every  night,  sometimes  twice  or  thrice,  he  would 
wake  up  in  terror,  and  it  would  be  minutes  ere  he  could 
come  to  himself.  The  consequence  was  that  he  was 


823  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CUR  DIE. 

always  worse  in  the  morning,  and  had  loss  to  make  up 
during  the  day.  This  retarded  his  recovery  greatly. 
While  he  slept,  Irene  or  Curdie,  one  or  the  other,  must 
still  be  always  by  his  side. 

One  night,  when  it  was  Curdie's  turn  with  the  king,  he 
heard  a  cry  somewhere  in  the  house,  and  as  there  was  no 
other  child,  concluded,  notwithstanding  the  distance  of 
her  grandmother's  room,  that  it  must  be  Barbara.  Fear- 
ing something  might  be  wrong,  and  noting  the  king's 
sleep  more  quiet  than  usual,  he  ran  to  see.  He 
found  the  child  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  weeping 
bitterly,  and  Derba  slumbering  peacefully  in  bed.  The 
instant  she  saw  him  the  night-lost  thing  ceased  her 
crying,  smiled,  and  stretched  out  her  arms  to  him.  Unwill- 
ing to  wake  the  old  woman,  who  had  been  working  hard 
all  day,  he  took  the  child,  and  carried  her  with  him.  She 
clung  to  him  so,  pressing  her  tear-wet  radiant  face  against 
his,  that  her  little  arms  threatened  to  choke  him.  When 
he  re-entered  the  chamber,  he  found  the  king  sitting 
up  in  bed,  fighting  the  phantoms  of  some  hideous 
dream.  Generally  upon  such  occasions,  although  he  saw 
his  watcher,  he  could  not  dissociate  him  from  the  dream, 
and  went  raving  on.  But  the  moment  his  eyes  fell  upon 
little  Barbara,  whom  he  had  never  seen  before,  his  soul 
came  into  them  with  a  rush,. and  a  smile  like  the  dawn 
of  an  eternal  day  overspread  his  countenance  :  the  dream 


BARBARA.  223 

was  nowhere,  and  the  child  was  in  his  heart.  He 
stretched  out  his  arms  to  her,  the  child  stretched  out  hers 
to  him,  and  in  five  minutes  they  were  both  asleep,  each 
in  the  other's  embrace.  From  that  night  Barbara  had  a 
crib  in  the  king's  chamber,  and  as  often  as  he  woke,  Irene 
or  Curdie,  whichever  was  watching,  took  the  sleeping 
child  and  laid  her  in  his  arms,  upon  which,  invariably 
and  instantly,  the  dream  would  vanish.  A  great  part  of 
the  day  too  she  would  be  playing  on  or  about  the  king's 
bed  ;  and  it  was  a  delight  to  the  heart  of  the  princess  to 
see  her  amusing  herself  with  the  crown,  now  sitting  upon 
it,  now  rolling  it  hither  and  thither  about  the  room  like  a 
hoop.  Her  grandmother  entering  once  while  she  was 
pretending  to  make  porridge  in  it,  held  up  her  hands  in 
horror-struck  amazement ;  but  the  king  would  not  allow 
her  to  interfere,  for  the  king  was  now  Barbara's  play- 
mate, and  his  crown  their  plaything. 

The  colonel  of  the  guard  also  was  growing  better. 
Curdie  went  often  to  see  him.  They  were  soon  friends, 
for  the  best  people  understand  each  other  the  easiest, 
and  the  grim  old  warrior  loved  the  miner  boy  as  if  he  were 
at  once  his  son  and  his  angel  He  was  very  anxious 
about  his  regiment.  He  said  the  officers  were  mostly 
honest  men,  he  believed,  but  how  they  might  be  doing 
without  him,  or  what  they  might  resolve,  in  ignorance  of 
the  real  state  of  affairs,  and  exposed  to  every  misrepre 


224  THE  PRINCESS  AND  C  UK  DTE. 

sentation,  who  could  tell?  Curdle  proposed  that  he 
should  send  for  the  major,  offering  to  be  the  messenger. 
The  colonel  agreed,  and  Curdle  went — not  without  his 
mattock,  because  of  the  dogs. 

But  the  officers  had  been  told  by  the  master  of  the 
horse  that  their  colonel  was  dead,  and  although  they 
were  amazed  he  should  be  buried  without  the  attend- 
ance of  his  regiment,  they  never  doubted  the  informa- 
tion. The  handwriting  itself  of  their  colonel  was 
insufficient,  counteracted  by  the  fresh  reports  daily 
current,  to  destroy  the  lie.  The  major  regarded  the 
letter  as  a  trap  for  the  next  officer  in  command, 
and  sent  his  orderly  to  arrest  the  messenger.  But 
Curdie  had  had  the  wisdom  not  to  wait  for  an 
answer. 

The  lung's  enemies  said  that  he  had  first  poisoned  the 
good  colonel  of  the  guard,  and  then  murdered  the  master 
of  the  horse,  and  other  faithful  councillors  ;  and  that  his 
oldest  and  most  attached  domestics  had  but  escaped 
from  the  palace  with  their  lives — nor  all  of  them, 
for  the  butler  was  missing.  Mad  or  wicked,  he  was 
not  only  unfit  to  rule  any  longer,  but  worse  than  unfit 
to  have  in  his  power  and  under  his  influence  the 
young  princess,  only  hope  of  Gwyntystorm  and  the 
kingdom. 

The  moment  the  lord  chancellor  reached  his  house  in 


BARBARA. 


225 


the  country  and  had  got  himself  clothed,  he  began  to 
devise  how  yet  to  destroy  his  master ;  and  the  very  next 
morning  set  out  for  the  neighbouring  kingdom  of  Borsa- 
grass,  to  invite  invasion,  and  offer  a  compact  with  its 
monarch. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PETER. 

the  cottage  on  the  mountain  everything  for 
a  time  went  on  just  as  before.  It  was  indeed 
dull  without  Curdie,  but  as  often  as  they 
looked  at  the  emerald  it  was  gloriously, 
green,  and  with  nothing  to  fear  or  regret,  and  everything 
to  hope,  they  required  little  comfortir  g.  One  morning, 
however,  at  last,  Peter,  who  had  been  consulting  the  gem, 
rather  now  from  habit  than  anxiety,  as  a  farmer  his 
barometer  in  undoubtful  weather,  turned  suddenly  to  his 
wife,  the  stone  in  his  hand,  and  held  it  up  with  a  look  of 
ghastly  dismay. 

"  Why,  that's  never  the  emerald  ! "  said  Joan. 
"  It  is,"  answered  Peter ;  "  but  it  were  small  blame  to 
any  one  that  took  it  for  a  bit  of  bottle  glass  ! " 

For,  all  save  one  spot  right  in  the  centre,  of  intensest 
and  most  brilliant  green,  it  looked  as  if  the  colour  had 
been  burnt  out  of  it. 


PETER.  227 

"  Run,  run,  Peter  ! "  cried  his  wife.  "  Run  and  tell  the 
old  princess.  It  may  not  be  too  late.  The  boy  must  be 
lying  at  death's  door." 

Without  a  word  Peter  caught  up  his  mattock,  darted 
from  the  cottage,  and  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  in 
less  time  than  he  usually  took  to  get  halfway. 

The  door  of  the  king's  house  stood  open  ;  he  rushed 
in  and  up  the  stair.  But  after  wandering  about  in  vain 
for  an  hour,  opening  door  after  door,  and  finding  no  way 
farther  up,  the  heart  of  the  old  man  had  well-nigh  failed 
him.  Empty  rooms,  empty  rooms ! — desertion  and 
desolation  everywhere. 

At  last  he  did  come  upon  the  door  to  the  tower-stair. 
Up  he  darted.  Arrived  at  the  top,  he  found  three  doors, 
and,  one  after  the  other,  knocked  at  them  all  But 
there  was  neither  voice  nor  hearing.  Urged  by  his  faith 
and  his  dread,  slowly,  hesitatingly,  he  opened  one.  It 
revealed  a  bare  garret-room,  nothing  in  it  but  one  chair  and 
one  spinning-wheel.  He  closed  it,  and  opened  the  next — 
to  start  back  in  terror,  for  he  saw  nothing  but  a  great 
gulf,  a  moonless  night,  full  of  stars,  and,  for  all  the  stars, 
dark,  dark  ! — a  fathomless  abyss.  He  opened  the  third 
door,  and  a  rush  like  the  tide  of  a  living  sea  invaded  his 
ears.  Multitudinous  wings  flapped  and  flashed  in  the 
sun,  and,  like  the  ascending  column  from  a  volcano, 
white  birds  innumerable  shot  into  the  air,  darkening  the 


223  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

day  with  the  shadow  of  their  cloud,  and  then,  with  a 
sharp  sweep,  as  if  bent  sideways  by  a  sudden  wind,  flew 
northward,  swiftly  away,  and  vanished.  The  place  felt 
like  a  tomb.  There  seemed  no  breath  of  life  left  in  it 
Despair  laid  hold  upon  him  ;  he  rushed  down  thundering 
with  heavy  feet.  Out  upon  him  darted  the  housekeeper 
like  an  ogress-spider,  and  after  her  came  her  men ;  but 
Peter  rushed  past  them,  heedless  and  careless — for  had 
not  the  princess  mocked  him  ? — and  sped  along  the  road 
to  Gwyntystorm.  What  help  lay  in  a  miner's  mattock, ' 
a  man's  arm,  a  father's  heart,  he  would  bear  to  his  boy. 
Joan  sat  up  all  night  waiting  his  return,  hoping  and 
hoping.  The  mountain  was  very  still,  and  the  sky  was 
clear ;  but  all  night  long  the  miner  sped  northwards,  and 
the  heart  of  his  wife  was  troubled. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    SACRIFICE. 

in  the  palace  were  in  a  strange  con- 
dition :  the  king  playing  with  a  child  and 
dreaming  wise  dreams,  waited  upon  by  a  little 
princess  with  the  heart  of  a  queen,  and  a 
youth  from  the  mines,  who  went  nowhere,  not  even  into 
the  king's  chamber,  without  his  mattock  on  his  shoulder 
and  a  horrible  animal  at  his  heels  ;  in  a  room  near  by  the 
colonel  of  his  guard,  also  in  bed,  without  a  soldier  to 
obey  him ;  in  six  other  rooms,  far  apart,  six  miscreants, 
each  watched  by  a  beast-gaoler  ;  ministers  to  them  all,  an 
old  woman,  a  young  woman,  and  a  page ;  and  in  the 
wine-cellar,  forty-three  animals,  creatures  more  grotesque 
than  ever  brain  of  man  invented.  None  dared  approach 
its  gates,  and  seldom  one  issued  from  them. 

All  the  dwellers  in  the  city  were  united  in  enmity  to 
the  palace.      It  swarmed  with  evil  spirits,    they    said' 

20 


230  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

whereas  the  evil  spirits  were  in  the  city,  unsuspected 
One  consequence  of  their  presence  was  that,  when  the 
rumour  came  that  a  great  army  was  on  the  march  against 
Gwyntystorm,  instead  of  rushing  to  their  defences,  to 
make  new  gates,  free  portcullises  and  drawbridges,  and 
bar  the  river,  each  and  all  flew  first  to  their  treasures, 
burying  them  in  their  cellars  and  gardens,  and  hiding 
them  behind  stones  in  their  chimneys ;  and,  next  to 
rebellion,  signing  an  invitation  to  his  majesty  of  Borsagrass 
to  enter  at  their  open  gates,  destroy  their  king,  and  annex 
their  country  to  his  own. 

The  straits  of  isolation  were  soon  found  in  the  palace  : 
its  invalids  were  requiring  stronger  food,  and  what  was  to 
be  done  ?  for  if  the  butchers  sent  meat  to  the  palace,  was 
it  not  likely  enough  to  be  poisoned  ?  Curdie  said  to 
Derba  he  would  think  of  some  plan  before  morning. 

But  that  same  night,  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  Lina  came 
to  her  master,  and  let  him  understand  she  wanted  to  go 
out  He  unlocked  a  little  private  postern  for  her,  left  it 
so  that  she  could  push  it  open  when  she  returned,  and 
told  the  crocodile  to  stretch  himself  across  it  inside.  Be- 
fore midnight  she  came  back  with  a  young  deer. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  legserpent  crept  out  of  the 
wine-cellar,  through  the  broken  door  behind,  shot  into 
the  river,  and  soon  appeared  in  the  kitchen  with  a 
splendid  sturgeon.  Every  night  Lina  went  out  hunting, 


THE  SACRIFICE.  231 

and  every  morning  Legserpent  went  out  fishing,  and  both 
invalids  and  household  had  plenty  to  eat.  As  to  news, 
the  page,  in  plain  clothes,  would  now  and  then  venture 
out  into  the  market-place,  and  gather  some. 

One  night  he  came  back  with  the  report  that  the  army 
of  the  king  of  Borsagrass  had  crossed  the  border.  Two 
days  after,  he  brought  the  news  that  the  enemy  was  now 
but  twenty  miles  from  Gwyntystorm. 

The  colonel  of  the  guard  rose,  and  began  furbishing 
his  armour — but  gave  it  over  to  the  page,  and  staggered 
across  to  the  barracks,  which  were  in  the  next  street. 
The  sentry  took  him  for  a  ghost  or  worse,  ran  into  the 
guard-room,  bolted  the  door,  and  stopped  his  ears.  The 
poor  colonel,  who  was  yet  hardly  able  to  stand,  crawled 
back  despairing. 

For  Curdie,  he  had  already,  as  soon  as  the  first  rumour 
reached  him,  resolved,  if  no  other  instructions  came,  and 
the  king  continued  unable  to  give  orders,  to  call  Lina 
and  the  creatures,  and  march  to  meet  the  enemy.  If  he 
died,  he  died  for  the  right,  and  there  was  a  right  end  of 
it.  He  had  no  preparations  to  make,  except  a  good 
sleep. 

He  asked  the  king  to  let  the  housemaid  take  his  place 
by  his  majesty  that  night,  and  went  and  lay  down  on  the 
floor  of  the  corridor,  no  farther  off  than  a  whisper  would 
reach  from  the  door  of  the  chamber.  There,  with  an 


232  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

old  mantle  of  the  king's  thrown  over  him,  he  was  soon 
fast  asleep. 

Somewhere  about  the  middle  of  the  night,  he  woke 
suddenly,  started  to  his  feet,  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  He 
could  not  tell  what  had  waked  him.  But  could  he  be 
awake,  or  was  he  not  dreaming  ?  The  curtain  of  the 
king's  door,  a  dull  red  ever  before,  was  glowing  a  gor- 
geous, a  radiant  purple  ;  and  the  crown  wrought  upon  it 
in  silks  and  gems  was  flashing  as  if  it  burned  !  What 
could  it  mean  ?  Was  the  king's  chamber  on  fire  ?  He 
darted  to  the  door  and  lifted  the  curtain.  Glorious 
terrible  sight ! 

A  long  and  broad  marble  table,  that  stood  at  one  end 
of  the  room,  had  been  drawn  into  the  middle  of  it,  and 
thereon  burned  a  great  fire,  of  a  sort  that  Curdie  knew — 
a  fire  of  glowing,  flaming  roses,  red  and  white.  In  the 
midst  of  the  roses  lay  the  king,  moaning,  but  motion- 
less. Every  rose  that  fell  from  the  table  to  the  floor, 
some  one,  whom  Curdie  could  not  plainly  see  tor  the 
brightness,  lifted  and  laid  burning  upon  the  king's  face, 
until  at  length  his  face  too  was  covered  with  the  live 
roses,  and  he  lay  all  within  the  fire,  moaning  still,  with 
now  and  then  a  shuddering  sob.  And  the  shape  that 
Curdie  saw  and  could  not  see,  wept  over  the  king  as  he 
lay  in  the  fire,  and  often  she  hid  her  face  in  handfuls  of 
her  shadowy  hair,  and  from  her  hair  the  water  of  her 


"  In  the  midst  of  tlie  roses  lay  the  king,   moaning,  but  motionless. '' 

Page  232. 


THE  SACRIFICE.  233 

weeping  dropped  like  sunset  rain  in  the  light  of  the  roses. 
At  last  she  lifted  a  great  armful  of  her  hair,  and  shook  it 
over  the  fire,  and  the  drops  fell  from  it  in  showers,  and 
they  did  not  hiss  in  the  flames,  but  there  arose  instead  as 
it  were  the  sound  of  running  brooks.  And  the  glow  of 
the  red  fire  died  away,  and  the  glow  of  the  white  fire 
grew  gray,  and  the  light  was  gone,  and  on  the  table  all 
was  black — except  the  face  of  the  king,  which  shone  from 
under  the  burnt  roses  like  a  diamond  in  the  ashes  of  a 
furnace. 

Then  Curdie,  no  longer  dazzled,  saw  and  knew  the  old 
princess.  The  room  was  lighted  with  the  splendour  of 
her  face,  of  her  blue  eyes,  of  her  sapphire  crown.  Her 
golden  hair  went  streaming  out  from  her  through  the  air 
till  it  went  off  in  mist  and  light.  She  was  large  and 
strong  as  a  Titaness.  She  stooped  over  the  table-altar, 
put  her  mighty  arms  under  the  living  sacrifice,  lifted  the 
king,  as  if  he  were  but  a  little  child,  to  her  bosom, 
walked  with  him  up  the  floor,  and  laid  him  in  his  bed. 
Then  darkness  fell. 

The  miner-boy  turned  silent  away,  and  laid  himself 
down  again  in  the  corridor.  An  absolute  joy  filled  his 
heart,  his  bosom,  his  head,  his  whole  body.  All  was  safe  ; 
all  was  well.  With  the  helve  of  his  mattock  tight  in  his 
grasp,  he  sank  into  a  dreamless  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  KING'S  ARMY. 

E  woke  like  a  giant  refreshed  with  wine. 

When  he  went  into  the  king's  chamber,  the 
housemaid  sat  where  he  had  left  her,  and 
everything  in  the  room  was  as  it  had  been 
the  night  before,  save  that  a  heavenly  odour  of  roses 
filled  the  air  of  it.  He  went  up  to  the  bed.  The  king 
opened  his  eyes,  and  the  soul  of  perfect  health  shone  out 
of  them.  Nor  was  Curdie  amazed  in  his  delight. 

"  Is  it  not  time  to  rise,  Curdie  ?  "  said  the  king. 
,  "  It   is,  your  majesty.     To-day  we   must  be  doing, " 
answered  Curdie. 

"  What  must  we  be  doing  to-day,  Curdie  ?  " 
"  Fighting,  sire." 

"Then  fetch  me  my  armour — that  of  plated  steel, 
in  the  chest  there.  You  will  find  the  underclothing 
with  it." 


THE  KING'S  ARMY.  235 

As  he  spoke,  he  reached  out  his  hand  for  his  sword, 
which  hung  in  the  bed  before  him,  drew  it,  and  examined 
the  blade. 

"  A  little  rusty  ! "  he  said,  "  but  the  edge  is  there. 
We  shall  polish  it  ourselves  to-day — not  on  the  wheel. 
Curdie,  my  son,  I  wake  from  a  troubled  dream.  A 
glorious  torture  has  ended  it,  and  I  live.  I  know  not 
well  how  things  are,  but  thou  shalt  explain  them  to  me 
as  I  get  on  my  armour. — No,  I  need  no  bath.  I  am 
clean. — Call  the  colonel  of  the  guard." 

In  complete  steel  the  old  man  stepped  into  the 
chamber.  He  knew  it  not,  but  the  old  princess  had 
passed  through  his  room  in  the  night. 

"  Why,  Sir  Bronzebeard  !  "  said  the  king,  "  you  are 
dressed  before  me  !  Thou  needest  no  valet,  old  man, 
when  there  is  battle  in  the  wind  ! " 

"  Battle,  sire  ! "  returned  the  colonel.  " — Where  then 
are  our  soldiers  ?  " 

"  Why,  there,  and  here,"  answered  the  king,  pointing 
to  the  colonel  first,  and  then  to  himself.  "  Where  else, 
man  ? — The  enemy  will  be  upon  us  ere  sunset,  if  we  be 
not  upon  him  ere  noon.  What  other  thing  was  in  thy 
brave  brain  when  thou  didst  don  thine  armour,  friend  ?  " 

"  Your  majesty's  orders,  sire,"  answered  Sir  Bronze- 
beard. 

The  king  smiled  and  turned  to  Curdie. 


236  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

'  And  what  was  in  thine,  Curdie — for  thy  first  word 
was  of  battle  ?  " 

"  See,  your  majesty,"  answered  Curdie ;  "  I  have 
polished  my  mattock.  If  your  majesty  had  not  taken 
the  command,  I  would  have  met  the  enemy  at  the 
head  of  my  beasts,  and  died  in  comfort,  or  done 
better." 

"  Brave  boy  ! "  said  the  king.  "  He  who  takes  his  life 
in  his  hand  is  the  only  soldier.  Thou  shalt  head  thy 
beasts  to-day. — Sir  Bronzebeard,  wilt  thou  die  with  me  if 
need  be  ?  " 

"  Seven  times,  my  king,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  Then  shall  we  win  this  battle  !  "  said  the  king. 
" — Curdie,  go  and  bind  securely  the  six,  that  we  lose  not 
their  guards. — Canst  thou  find  us  a  horse,  think'st  thou, 
Sir  Bronzebeard  ?  Alas  !  they  told  us  our  white  charger 
was  dead." 

"  I  will  go  and  fright  the  varletry  with  my  presence, 
and  secure,  I  trust,  a  horse  for  your  majesty,  and  one 
for  myself." 

"  And  look  you,  brother  ! "  said  the  king ;  "  bring  one 
for  my  miner  boy  too,  and  a  sober  old  charger  for  the 
princess,  for  she  too  must  go  to  the  battle,  and  conquer 
with  us." 

"  Pardon  me,  sire,"  said  Curdie  ;  "  a  miner  can  fight 
best  on  foot  I  might  smite  my  horse  dead  under  me 


THE  KING'S  ARMY.  237 

with  a  missed  blow.  And  besides,  I  must  be  near  my 
beasts." 

"  As  you  will,"  said  the  king.  " — Three  horses  then, 
Sir  Bronzebeard." 

The  colonel  departed,  doubting  sorely  in  his  heart 
how  to  accoutre  and  lead  from  the  barrack  stables  three 
horses,  in  the  teeth  of  his  revolted  regiment. 

In  the  hall  he  met  the  housemaid. 

"  Can  you  lead  a  horse  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  die  for  the  king  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Can  you  do  as  you  are  bid  ?  n 

"  I  can  keep  on  trying,  sir." 

"  Come,  then.  Were  I  not  a  man  I  would  be  a 
woman  such  as  thou." 

When  they  entered  the  barrack-yard,  the  soldiers 
scattered  like  autumn  leaves  before  a  blast  of  winter. 
They  went  into  the  stable  unchallenged — and  lo  !  in  a 
stall,  before  the  colonel's  eyes,  stood  the  king's  white 
charger,  with  the  royal  saddle  and  bridle  hung  high 
beside  him  ! 

"  Traitorous  thieves  ! "  muttered  the  old  man  in  his 
beard,  and  went  along  the  stalls,  looking  for  his  own 
black  charger.  Having  found  him,  he  returned  to  saddle 
first  the  king's.  But  the  maid  had  already  the  saddle 


238  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

upon  him,  and  so  girt  that  the  colonel  could  thrust  no 
finger-tip  between  girth  and  skin.  He  left  her  to  finish 
what  she  had  so  well  begun,  and  went  and  graithed  his 
own.  He  then  chose  for  the  princess  a  great  red  horse, 
twenty  years  old,  which  he  knew  to  possess  every  equine 
virtue.  This  and  his  own  he  led  to  the  palace,  and  the 
maid  led  the  king's. 

The  king  and  Curdie  stood  in  the  court,  the  king  in 
full  armour  of  silvered  steel,  with  a  circlet  of  rubies  and 
diamonds  round  his  helmet.  He  almost  leaped  for  joy 
when  he  saw  his  great  white  charger  come  in,  gentle  as  a 
child  to  the  hand  of  the  housemaid.  But  when  the  horse 
saw  his  master  in  his  armour,  he  reared  and  bounded  in 
jubilation,  yet  did  not  break  from  the  hand  that  held 
him.  'Then  out  came  the  princess  attired  and  ready,  with 
a  hunting-knife  her  father  had  given  her  by  her  side. 
They  brought  her  mother's  saddle,  splendent  with  gems 
and  gold,  set  it  on  the  great  red  horse,  and  lifted  her  to 
it  But  the  saddle  was  so  big,  and  the  horse  so  tall,  that 
the  child  found  no  comfort  in  them. 

"  Please,  king  papa,"  she  said,  "  can  I  not  have  my 
white  pony  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  of  him,  little  one,"  said  the  king. 
"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  stable,"  answered  the  maid.  "  I  found  him 
half-starved,  the  only  horse  within  the  gates,  the  day 


THE  KINGS  ARMY.  239 

after  the  servants  were  driven  out.     He  has  been  well  fed 
since." 

"  Go  and  fetch  him,"  said  the  king. 

As  the  maid  appeared  with  the  pony,  from  a  side  door 
came  Lina  and  the  forty-nine,  following  Curdie. 

"  I  will  go  with  Curdie  and  the  Uglies,"  cried  the 
princess  ;  and  as  soon  as  she  was  mounted  she  got  into 
the  middle  of  the  pack. 

So  out  they  set,  the  strangest  force  that  ever  went 
against  an  enemy.  The  king  in  silver  armour  sat  stately 
on  his  white  steed,  with  the  stones  flashing  on  his  helmet  j 
beside  him  the  grim  old  colonel,  armed  in  steel,  rode  his 
black  charger ;  behind  the  king,  a  little  to  the  right,  Curdie 
walked  afoot,  his  mattock  shining  in  the  sun ;  Lina 
followed  at  his  heel ;  behind  her  came  the  wonderful 
company  of  Uglies  ;  in  the  midst  of  them  rode  the 
gracious  little  Irene,  dressed  in  blue,  and  mounted  on  the 
prettiest  of  white  ponies  ;  behind  the  colonel,  a  little  to 
the  left,  walked  the  page,  armed  in  a  breastplate,  head- 
piece, and  trooper's  sword  he  had  found  in  the  palace,  all 
much  too  big  for  him,  and  carrying  a  huge  brass  trumpet 
which  he  did  his  best  to  blow ;  and  the  king  smiled  and 
seemed  pleased  with  his  music,  although  it  was  but  the 
grunt  of  a  brazen  unrest.  Alongside  of  the  beasts 
walked  Derba  carrying  Barbara — their  refuge  the  moun- 
tains, should  the  cause  of  the  king  be  lost ;  as  soon  as 


240  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

they  were  over  the  river  they  turned  aside  to  ascend  the 
cliff,  and  there  awaited  the  forging  of  the  day's  history. 
Then  first  Curdie  saw  that  the  housemaid,  whom  they  had 
all  forgotten,  was  following,  mounted  on  the  great  red 
horse,  and  seated  in  the  royal  saddle. 

Many  were  the  eyes  unfriendly  of  women  that  had  stared 
at  them  from  door  and  window  as  they  passed  through 
the  city  ;  and  low  laughter  and  mockery  and  evil  words 
from  the  lips  of  children  had  rippled  about  their  ears  ; 
but  the  men  were  all  gone  to  welcome  the  enemy,  the 
butchers  the  first,  the  king's  guard  the  last.  And  now 
on  the  heels  of  the  king's  army  rushed  out  the  women 
and  children  also,  to  gather  flowers  and  branches,  where- 
with to  welcome  their  conquerors. 

About  a  mile  down  the  river,  Curdie,  happening  to 
look  behind  him,  saw  the  maid,  whom  he  had  supposed 
gone  with  Derba,  still  following  on  the  great  red  horse. 
The  same  moment  the  king,  a  few  paces  in  front  of  him, 
caught  sight  of  the  enemy's  tents,  pitched  where,  the  cliffs 
receding,  the  bank  of  the  river  widened  to  a  little  plain. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE    BATTLE. 

E  commanded  the  page  to  blow  his 
trumpet ;  and,  in  the  strength  of  the 
moment,  the  youth  uttered  a  right  war- 
like defiance. 

But  the  butchers  and  the  guard,  who  had  gone 
over  armed  to  the  enemy,  thinking  that  the  king 
had  come  to  make  his  peace  also,  and  that  it  might 
thereafter  go  hard  with  them,  rushed  at  once  to  make 
short  work  with  him,  and  both  secure  and  commend 
themselves.  The  butchers  came  on  first — for  the  guards 
had  slackened  their  saddle-girths — brandishing  their 
knives,  and  talking  to  their  dogs.  Curdie  and  the  page, 
with  Lina  and  her  pack,  bounded  to  meet  them.  Curdie 
struck  down  the  foremost  with  his  mattock.  The 
page,  finding  his  sword  too  much  for  him,  threw  it 

away  and  seized  the  butcher's  knife,  which  as  he  rose  he 
21 


242  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

plunged  into  the  foremost  dog.  Lina  rushed  raging  and 
gnashing  amongst  them.  She  would  not  look  at  a  dog 
so  long  as  there  was  a  butcher  on  his  legs,  and  she  never 
stopped  to  kill  a  butcher,  only  with  one  grind  of  her  jaws 
crushed  a  leg  of  him.  When  they  were  all  dov,-n,  then 
indeed  she  flashed  amongst  the  dogs. 

Meantime  the  king  and  the  colonel  had  spurred 
towards  the  advancing  guard.  The  king  clove  the  major 
through  skull  and  collar-bone,  and  the  colonel  stabbed 
the  captain  in  the  throat.  Then  a  fierce  combat  com- 
menced— two  against  many.  But  the  butchers  and  their 
dogs  quickly  disposed  of,  up  came  Curdie  and  his  beasts. 
The  horses  of  the  guard,  struck  with  terror,  turned  in  spite 
of  the  spur,  and  fled  in  confusion. 

Thereupon  the  forces  of  Borsagrass,  which  could  see 
little  of  the  affair,  but  correctly  imagined  a  small  deter- 
mined body  in  front  of  them,  hastened  to  the  attack. 
No  sooner  did  their  first  advancing  wave  appear  through 
the  foam  of  the  retreating  one,  than  the  king  and  the 
colonel  and  the  page,  Curdie  and  the  beasts,  went  charging 
upon  them.  Their  attack,  especially  the  rush  of  the  Uglies, 
threw  the  first  line  into  great  confusion,  but  the  second 
came  up  quickly ;  the  beasts  could  not  be  everywhere, 
there  were  thousands  to  one  against  them,  and  the  king 
and  his  three  companions  were  in  the  greatest  possible 
danger. 


"  The  king  and  the  colonel  and  the  page,    Curdle  and  the  beasts,  went 
charging  upon  them."  Page  242 


THE  BATTLE.  243 

A  dense  cloud  came  over  the  sun,  and  sank  rapidly 
towards  the  earth.  The  cloud  moved  "all  together," 
and  yet  the  thousands  of  white  flakes  of  which  it  was 
made  up  moved  each  for  itself  in  ceaseless  and  rapid 
motion  :  those  flakes  were  the  wings  of  pigeons.  Down 
swooped  the  birds  upon  the  invaders  ;  right  in  the  face  of 
man  and  horse  they  flew  with  swift-beating  wings,  blind- 
ing eyes  and  confounding  brain.  Horses  reared  and 
plunged  and  wheeled.  All  was  at  once  in  confusion 
The  men  made  frantic  efforts  to  seize  their  tormentors, 
but  not  one  could  they  touch;  and  they  outdoubled  them 
in  numbers.  Between  every  wild  clutch  came  a  peck  of 
beak  and  a  buffet  of  pinion  in  the  face.  Generally  the 
bird  would,  with  sharp-clapping  wings,  dart  its  whole 
body,  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow,  against  its  singled 
mark,  yet  so  as  to  glance  aloft  the  same  instnnt,  and  de- 
scend skimming ;  much  as  the  thin  stone,  shot  with  hori- 
zontal cast  of  arm,  having  touched  and  torn  the  surface 
of  the  lake,  ascends  to  skim,  touch,  and  tear  again.  So 
mingled  the  feathered  multitude  in  the  grim  game  of  war. 
It  was  a  storm  in  which  the  wind  was  birds,  and  the  sea 
men.  And  ever  as  each  bird  arrived  at  the  rear  of  the 
enemy,  it  turned,  ascended,  and  sped  to  the  front  to 
charge  again. 

The  moment  the  battle  began,  the  princess's  pony  took 
fright,  and  turned  and  fled.     But  the  maid  wheeled  her 


244  THE  PRINCESS  AND   CURD1E. 

horse  across  the  road  and  stopped  him ;  and  they  waited 
together  the  result  of  the  battle. 

And  as  they  waited,  it  seemed  to  the  princess  right 
strange  that  the  pigeons,  every  one  as  it  came  to  the  rear, 
and  fetched  a  compass  to  gather  force  for  the  re-attack, 
should  make  the  head  of  her  attendant  on  the  red  horse 
the  goal  around  which  it  turned ;  so  that  about  them  was 
an  unintermittent  flapping  and  flashing  of  wings,  and  a 
curving,  sweeping  torrent  of  the  side-poised  wheeling 
bodies  of  birds.  Strange  also  it  seemed  that  the  maid 
should  be  constantly  waving  her  arm  towards  the  battle. 
And  the  time  of  the  motion  of  her  arm  so  fitted  with  the 
rushes  of  birds,  that  it  looked  as  if  the  birds  obeyed 
her  gesture,  and  she  were  casting  living  javelins  by  the 
thousand  against  the  enemy.  The  moment  a  pigeon  had 
rounded  her  head,  it  went  off  straight  as  bolt  from  bow, 
and  with  trebled  velocity. 

But  of  these  strange  things,  others  besides  the  princess 
had  taken  note.  From  a  rising  ground  whence  they 
watched  the  battle  in  growing  dismay,  the  leaders  of  the 
enemy  saw  the  maid  and  her  motions,  and,  concluding 
her  an  enchantress,  whose  were  the  airy  legions  humili- 
ating them,  set  spurs  to  their  horses,  made  a  circuit,  out- 
flanked the  king,  and  came  down  upon  her.  But 
suddenly  by  her  side  stood  a  stalwart  old  man  in  the  garb 
of  a  mmei,  who,  as  the  general  rode  at  her,  sword  in 


looked  as  if  the  birds  obeyed  her  gesture,   and  she  were  casting  living 
javelins  by  the  thousand  against  the  enemy."       Page  244. 


THE  BATTLE.  245 

hand,  heaved  his  swift  mattock,  and  brought  it  down 
with  such  force  on  the  forehead  of  his  charger,  that  he 
fell  to  the  ground  like  a  log.  His  rider  shot  over  his 
head  and  lay  stunned.  Had  not  the  great  red  horse 
reared  and  wheeled,  he  would  have  fallen  beneath  that 
of  the  general. 

With  lifted  sabre,  one  of  his  attendant  officers  rode  at 
the  miner.  But  a  mass  of  pigeons  darted  in  the  faces  of 
him  and  his  horse,  and  the  next  moment  he  lay  beside 
his  commander.  The  rest  of  them  turned  and  fled,  pur- 
sued by  the  birds. 

"  Ah,  friend  Peter  ! "  said  the  maid ;  "  thou  hast  come 
as  I  told  thee  !  Welcome  and  thanks  !  " 

By  this  time  the  battle  was  over.  The  rout  was 
general.  The  enemy  stormed  back  upon  their  own 
camp,  with  the  beasts  roaring  in  the  midst  of  them,  and 
the  king  and  his  army,  now  reinforced  by  one,  pursuing. 
But  presently  the  king  drew  rein. 

"  Call  off  your  hounds,  Curdie,  and  let  the  pigeons  do 
the  rest,"  he  shouted,  and  turned  to  see  what  had  become 
of  the  princess. 

In  full  panic  fled  the  invaders,  sweeping  down  their 
tents,  stumbling  over  their  baggage,  trampling  on  their 
dead  and  wounded,  ceaselessly  pursued  and  buffeted  by 
the  white-winged  army  of  heaven.  Homeward  they  rushed 
the  road  they  had  come,  straight  for  the  borders,  many 


246  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

dropping  from  pure  'atigue,  and  lying  where  they  fell. 
And  still  the  pigeons  were  in  their  necks  as  they  ran. 
At  length  to  the  eyes  of  the  king  and  his  army  nothing 
was  visible  save  a  dust-cloud  below,  and  a  bird-cloud 
above. 

Before  night  the  bird-cloud  came  back,  flying  high  over 
Gwyntystorm.  Sinking  swiftly,  it  disappeared  among  the 
ancient  roofs  of  the  palace, 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

JUDGMENT. 

king  and  his  army  returned,  bringing 
with    them    one    prisoner    only,    the    lord 
chancellor.     Curdie  had  dragged  him  from 
under  a  fallen  tent,  not  by  the  hand  of  a 
man,  but  by  the  foot  of  a  mule. 

When  they  entered  the  city,  it  was  still  as  the  grave. 
The  citizens  had  fled  home.  "  We  must  submit,"  they 
cried,  "or  the  king  and  his  demons  will  destroy  us." 
The  king  rode  through  the  streets  in  silence,  ill-pleased 
with  his  people.  But  he  stopped  his  horse  in  the  midst 
of  the  market-place,  and  called,  in  a  voice  loud  and  clear 
as  the  cry  of  a  silver  trumpet,  "  Go  and  find  your  own. 
Bury  your  dead,  and  bring  home  your  wounded."  Then 
he  turned  him  gloomily  to  the  palace. 

Just  as  they  reached  the  gates,  Peter,  who,  as  they  went, 
had  been  telling  his  tale  to  Curdie,  ended  it  with  the 
words, — 


248  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

"  And  so  there  I  was,  in  the  nick  of  time  to  save  the 
two  princesses  ! " 

"  The  two  princesses,  father  !  The  one  on  the  great 
red  horse  was  the  housemaid,"  said  Curdie,  and  ran  to 
open  the  gates  for  the  king. 

They  found  Derba  returned  before  them,  and  already 
busy  preparing  them  food.  The  king  put  up  his  charger 
with  his  own  hands,  rubbed  him  down,  and  fed  him. 

When  they  had  washed,  and  eaten  and  drunk,  he 
called  the  colonel,  and  told  Curdie  and  the  page  to 
bring  out  the  traitors  and  the  beasts,  and  attend  him 
to  the  market-place. 

By  this  time  the  people  were  crowding  back  into  the 
city,  bearing  their  dead  and  wounded.  And  there  was 
lamentation  in  Gwyntystorm,  for  no  one  could  comfort 
himself,  and  no  one  had  any  to  comfort  him.  The  nation 
was  victorious,  but  the  people  were  conquered. 

The  king  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  market-place,  upon 
the  steps  of  the  ancient  cross.  He  had  laid  aside  his 
helmet  and  put  on  his  crown,  but  he  stood  all  armed 
beside,  with  his  sword  in  his  hand.  He  called  the  people 
to  him,  and,  for  all  the  terror  of  the  beasts,  they  dared 
not  disobey  him.  Those  even,  who  were  carrying  their 
wounded  laid  them  down,  and  drew  near  trembling. 

Then  the  king  said  to  Curdie  and  the  page, — 

"  Set  the  evil  men  before  me." 


"  To  the  body  of  the  animal  they  bound  the  lord  chamberlain,   speechless 
with  horror."  Page  249. 


JUDGMENT.  249 

He  looked  upon  them  for  a  moment  in  mingled  anger 
and  pity,  then  turned  to  the  people  and  said, — 

"  Behold  your  trust !  Ye  slaves,  behold  your  leaders  ! 
I  would  have  freed  you,  but  ye  would  not  be  free.  Now 
shall  ye  be  ruled  with  a  rod  of  iron,  that  ye  may  learn 
what  freedom  is,  and  love  it  and  seek  it.  These  wretches 
I  will  send  where  they  shall  mislead  you  no  longer." 

He  made  a  sign  to  Curdie,  who  immediately  brought 
up  the  leg  serpent.  To  the  body  of  the  animal  they 
bound  the  lord  chamberlain,  speechless  with  horror. 
The  butler  began  to  shriek  and  pray,  but  they  bound  him 
on  the  back  of  Clubhead.  One  after  another,  upon  the 
largest  of  the  creatures  they  bound  the  whole  seven, 
each  through  the  unveiling  terror  looking  the  villain  he 
was.  Then  said  the  king, — 

"  I  thank  you,  my  good  beasts ;  and  I  hope  to  visit 
you  ere  long.  Take  these  evil  men  with  you,  and  go  to 
your  place." 

Like  a  whirlwind  they  were  in  the  crowd,  scattering  it 
like  dust.  Like  hounds  they  rushed  from  the  city,  their 
burdens  howling  and  raving. 

What  became  of  them  I  have  never  heard. 

Then  the  king  turned  once  more  to  the  people  and 
said,  "  Go  to  your  houses ; "  nor  vouchsafed  them 
another  word.  They  crept  home  like  chidden  hounds. 

The  king   returned   to    the   palace.     He    made    the 


250  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

colonel  a  duke,  and  the  page  a  knight,  and  Peter  he 
appointed  general  of  all  his  mines.  But  to  Curdie  he 
said, — 

"  You  are  my  own  boy,  Curdie.  My  child  cannot 
choose  but  love  you,  and  when  you  are  both  grown  up — 
if  you  both  will — you  shall  marry  each  other,  and  be  king 
and  queen  when  I  am  gone.  Till  then  be  the  king's 
Curdie." 

Irene  held  out  her  arms  to  Curdie.  He  raised  her  in 
his,  and  she  kissed  him. 

"  And  my  Curdie  too  ! "  she  said. 

Thereafter  the  people  called  him  Prince  Conrad  ;  but 
the  king  always  called  him  either  just  Curdie,  or  My 
mintr-boy. 

They  sat  down  to  supper,  and  Derba  and  the  knight 
and  the  housemaid  waited,  and  Barbara  sat  on  the  king's 
left  hand.  The  housemaid  poured  out  the  wine  ;  and  as 
she  poured  out  for  Curdie  red  wine  that  foamed  in  the 
cup,  as  if  glad  to  see  the  light  whence  it  had  been 
banished  so  long,  she  looked  him  in  the  eyes.  And 
Curdie  started,  and  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  dropped 
on  his  knees,  and  burst  into  tears.  And  the  maid  said 
with  a  smile,  such  as  none  but  one  could  smile, — 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  Curdie,  that  it  might  be  you 
would  not  know  me  when  next  you  saw  me  ?  " 

Then    she  went  from  the  room,  and  in  a  moment 


JUDGMENT. 


251 


returned  in  royal  purple,  with  a  crown  of  diamonds  and 
rubies,  from  under  which  her  hair  went  flowing  to  the 
floor,  all  about  her  ruby-slippered  feet.  Her  face  was 
radiant  with  joy,  the  joy  overshadowed  by  a  faint  mist 
as  of  unfulnlment  The  king  rose  and  kneeled  on  one 
knee  before  her.  All  kneeled  in  like  homage.  Then 
the  king  would  have  yielded  her  his  royal  chair.  But 
she  made  them  all  sit  down,  and  with  her  own  hands 
placed  at  the  table  seats  for  Derba  and  the  page.  Then 
in  ruby  crown  and  royal  purple  she  served  them  alL 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  END 

|HE    king    sent   Curdle    out     into   his   do- 
minions   to    search    for   men   and  women 
that  had  human  hands.     And    many  such 
he   found,    honest   and   true,  and   brought 
them   to  his    master.      So  a  new  and  upright  govern- 
ment,   a   new    and   upright   court,    was    formed,    and 
strength   returned  to   the   nation. 

But  the  exchequer  was  almost  empty,  for  the  evil  men 
had  squandered  everything,  and  the  king  hated  taxes 
unwillingly  paid.  Then  came  Curdie  and  said  to  the 
king  that  the  city  stood  upon  gold.  And  the  king  sent 
for  men  wise  in  the  ways  of  the  earth,  and  they  built 
smelting  furnaces,  and  Peter  brought  miners,  and  they 
mined  the  gold,  and  smelted  it,  and  the  king  coined  it 
into  money,  and  therewith  established  things  well  in  the 
land. 

The  same  day  on  which  he  found  his  boy,   Peter  set 


THE  EN&.  233 

out  to  go  home.  When  he  told  the  good  news  to  Joan 
his  wife,  she  rose  from  her  chair  andsaid,  "  Let  us  go." 
And  they  left  the  cottage,  and  repaired  to  Gwyntystorm: 
And  on  a  mountain  above  the  city  they  built  themselves 
a  warm  house  for  their  old  age,  high  in  the  clear  air. 

As  Peter  mined  one  day  by  himself,  at  the  back  of  the 
king's  wine-cellar,  he  broke  into  a  cavern  all  crusted  with 
gems,  and  much  wealth  flowed  therefrom,  and  the  king 
used  it  wisely. 

Queen  Irene — that  was  the  right  name  of  the  old 
princess — was  thereafter  seldom  long  absent  from  the 
palace.  Once  or  twice  when  she  was  missing,  Barbara, 
who  seemed  to  know  of  her  sometimes  when  nobody  else 
had  a  notion  whither  she  had  gone,  said  she  was  with 
the  dear  old  Uglies  in  the  wood.  Curdie  thought  that 
perhaps  her  business  might  be  with  others  there  as  well. 
All  the  uppermost  rooms  in  the  palace  were  left  to  her 
use,  and  when  any  one  was  in  need  of  her  help,  up 
thither  he  must  go.  But  even  when  she  was  there,  he 
did  not  always  succeed  in  rinding  her.  She,  however, 
always  knew  that  such  a  one  had  been  looking  for  her. 

Curdie  went  to  find  her  one  day.  As  he  ascended  the 
last  stair,  to  meet  him  came  the  well-known  scent  of  her 
roses ;  and  when  he  opened  her  door,  lo  !  there  was  the 
same  gorgeous  room  in  which  his  touch  had  been  glori- 
fied by  her  fire  !  And  there  burned  the  fire — a  huge 
22 


«S4  THE  PRINCESS  AND  CURDIE. 

heap  of  red  and  white  roses.  Before  the  hearth  stood 
the  princess,  an  old  gray-haired  woman,  with  Lina  a  little 
behind  her,  slowly  wagging  her  tail,  and  looking  like 
a  beast  of  prey  that  can  hardly  so  long  restrain  itself  from 
springing  as  to  be  sure  of  its  victim.  The  queen  was 
casting  roses,  more  and  more  roses,  upon  the  fire.  At  last 
she  turned  and  said,  "  Now,  Lina  ! " — and  Lina  dashed 
burrowing  into  the  fire.  There  went  up  a  black  smoke 
and  a  dust,  and  Lina  was  never  more  seen  in  the  palace. 

Irene  and  Curdie  were  married.  The  old  king  died, 
and  they  were  king  and  queen.  As  long  as  they  lived 
Gwyntystorm  was  a  better  city,  and  good  people  grew  in  it. 
But  they  had  no  children,  and  when  they  died  the  people 
chose  a  king.  And  the  new  king  went  mining  and 
mining  in  the  rock  under  the  city,  and  grew  more  and 
more  eager  after  the  gold,  and  paid  less  and  less  heed  to 
his  people.  Rapidly  they  sunk  towards  their  old 
wickedness.  But  still  the  king  went  on  mining,  and 
coining  gold  by  the  pailful,  until  the  people  were  worse 
even  than  in  the  old  time.  And  so  greedy  was  the  king 
after  gold,  that  when  at  last  the  ore  began  to  fail,  he 
caused  the  miners  to  reduce  the  pillars  which  Peter  and 
they  that  followed  him  had  left  standing  to  bear  the  city. 
And  from  the  girth  of  an  oak  of  a  thousand  years,  they 
chipped  them  down  to  that  of  a  fir  tree  of  fifty. 

One  day  at  noon,  when  life  was  at  its  highest,  the 


THE  END.  255 

whole  city  fell  with  a  roaring  crash.  The  cries  of  men 
and  the  shrieks  of  women  went  up  with  its  dust,  and 
then  there  was  a  great  silence. 

Where  the  mighty  rock  once  towered,  crowded  with 
homes  and  crowned  with  a  palace,  now  rushes  and  raves 
a  stone-obstructed  rapid  of  the  river.  All  around  spreads 
a  wilderness  of  wild  deer,  and  the  very  name  of  Gwynty- 
storm  has  ceased  from  the  lips  of  men. 


THE  END. 


PUBLICATIONS   OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &>  CO. 

FAIRY  STORY  BOOKS 


ARABIAN  NIGHTS'  ENTERTAINMENTS. 

Profusely   Illustrated.      12mo.      Extra    cloth.      $1.OO. 

THE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS, 

Containing  Stories  Omitted  in  the  One  Thousand  and 

One  Nights.    Translated  and  Edited  by  W.  F.  Kirby. 

With  over  3O  full-page  Illustrations.    12mo. 

Extra    cloth.     $2.OO. 

ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

German    Fairy   Tales.     By   Hans   Christian   Andersen. 
With  14  Illustrations.    12mo.    Extra  cloth.    $1.23. 

GEEMAN  FAIRY  TALES. 

Translated   by   Charles   A.    Dana.     12mo.     Extra   cloth. 

<t  1    OCI 

3>  1 .  j^O. 

EASTERN  FAIRY  LEGENDS. 

Current    in    Southern    India.      Collected    by    M.    Frere. 
Illustrated.     12mo.    Extra  cloth.    $1.23. 

FAMOUS  FAIRY  TALES. 

Told    in  Words   of  One    Syllable.      Containing    all   the 

Old- Fashioned    Nursery   Tales,    such    as    Goody 

Two  Shoes,  Blue  Beard,  Hop-O'  My-Thumb, 

etc.,  etc.     By  Harriet  B.  Audubon.    With 

elegant  illuminated  covers.    I  vol. 

4to.      Extra   cloth.      $2.OO. 

SPANISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

By   Fernan   Caballero.      Translated    by  J.    H.    Ingram. 
Illustrated.    12mo.    Extra  cloth.    $1.23. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &•>  CO. 

JUVENILE  LIBRARIES. 

1  <•>  ' — 

BAKER'S  LIBRARY  OF  TRAVEL  AND 
ADVENTURE. 

Containing — Eight  Years'  Wanderings  in  Ceylon ;  The  Rifle  and 
Hound  in  Ceylon;  and  Cast  Up  by  the  Sea.  By  Sir  S.  W.  BAKER. 
3  vols.  I2mo.  Many  Illustrations.  Extra  clolh.  #3.75. 

BALLANTYNE'S  LIBRARY  OF  STORY. 

Containing  —  The  Red  Eric;  Deep  Down:  a  Tale  of  the 
Cornish  Mines;  The  Fire  Brigade,  or  Fighting  the  Flames:  a 
Tale  of  London;  Eiling  the  Bold:  a  Tale  of  the  Norse  Sea 
Kings.  4  vols.  Handsomely  Illustrated.  121110.  Extra  cloth. 
#5.00. 

DALTON   LIBRARY   OF   ADVENTURE. 

Containing— The  Wolf  Boy  of  China;  The  White  Elephnnt, 
or  The  Hunters  of  Ava,  and  the  King  of  the  Golden  Foot ;  The 
War  Tiger,  or  Adventures  and  Wonderful  Fortunes  of  the  Young 
Sea  Chief  and  his  Lad  Chow ;  The  Tiger  Prince,  or  Adventures 
in  the  Wilds  of  Abyssinia.  4  vols.  i6mo.  Illustrated.  Extra 
cloth.  $5.00. 

EDGEWORTII'S  YOUNG  FOLKS'  LIBRARY 

Containing — Parent's  Assistant;  Popular  Tales;  Moral  Tales. 
Illustrated.  3  vols.  i6mo.  Extra  cloth.  $3.75. 

ENTERTAINING    LIBRARY. 

Story  and  Instruction  Combined.  Containing — Our  Own  Birds, 
etc. ;  Life  of  Audubon,  the  Naturalist ;  Grandpapa's  Stories  of 
Natural  History ;  Romance  of  Natural  History ;  Wonders  of  the 
Great  Deep.  5  vols.  Illustrated.  121110.  Extra  cloth.  $6.25. 

KINGSTON   LIBRARY   OF  ADVENTURE. 

Containing — Round  the  World;  Salt  Water;  Peter  the  Whaler; 
Mark  Seaworth;  The  Midshipman,  Marmaduke  Merry;  The 
Young  Foresters.  By  W.  H.  G.  KINGSTON.  Illustrated.  6  vols. 
121110.  Extra  cloth.  $7.50. 

LIBRARY  OF  CELEBRATED  BOOKS. 

Containing — The  Arabian  Nights;  Robinson  Crusoe;  The 
Swiss  Family  Robinson ;  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield ;  Sandford  and 
Merton.  5  vols.  121110.  Extra  cloth.  $5.00. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &>  CO. 

POPULAR  JUVENILES. 


RANALD  BANNER  MAN'S  BOYHOOD. 

By  GEORGE  MACDONALD.  With  numerous  Illustrations.  i2mo. 
Extra  cloth.  $1.25. 

THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  GOBLIN. 

By  GEORGE  MACDONALD,  author  of  "  The  Princess  and  Curdie." 
With  30  Illustrations.  i6mo.  Cloth,  gilt  extra.  #1.25. 

OUR  YOUNG  FOLKS  IN  AFRICA. 

The  Adventures  of  Four  Young  Americans  in  the  Wilds  of 
Africa.  By  JAMES  D.  McCABE,  author  of  "Our  Young  Folks 
Abroad."  Fully  Illustrated.  410.  Boards.  $1.75.  Extra  cloth. 
12.25. 

OUR  YOUNG  FOLKS  ABROAD. 

The  Adventures  of  Four  American  Boys  and  Girls  in  a  Journey 
Through  Europe  to  Constantinople.  By  JAMES  D.  McCABE,  author 
of  "Our  Young  Folks  in  Africa."  Profusely  Illustrated.  8vo. 
Extra  cloth.  $2.25.  Illuminated  board  covers.  $1.75. 

FIVE  WEEKS  IN  A  BALLOON; 

Or,  Journey  and  Discoveries   in  Africa  by  Three   Englishmen. 
By  JULE^  VERNE.     Illustrated.     I2mo.     Fine  cloth.     $1.25. 

IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  CASTAWAYS. 

A  Romantic  Narrative  of  the  Loss  of  Captain  Grant,  and  of  the 
Adventures  of  his  Children  and  Friends  in  his  Discovery  and 
Rescue.  Being  a  Voyage  Round  the  World.  By  JULES  VERNE. 
New  Edition.  Illustrated  with  172  Engravings.  8vo.  Extra 
cloth.  £2.50. 

BIMBI. 

Stories  for  Children.  By  "OuiDA."  I2mo.  Extra  cloth. 
#1.25. 

THREE  YEARS  AT  WOLVERTON. 

A  Story  of  a  Boy's  Life  at  Boarding-School.  Illustrated.  1 2mo. 
Extra  cloth.  $1.25. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  y.  B,  LIPPINCOTT  &>  CO. 

JUVENILES    BOUND    IN    ILLUMINATED 
BOARD  COVERS, 


THE    BOYS»    AND    GIRLS'    TREASURY. 

A  Collection  of  Pictures  and  Stories  for  Boys  and  Girls. 
Edited  by  UNCLE  HERBERT.  Bound  in  half  cloth,  gilt  back,  ele- 
gant chromo  side.  $1.25.  Cloth,  extra  black  and  gold.  $1.75. 

THE   BUDGET. 

A  Picture  Book  for  Boys  and  Girls.  Edited  by  UNCLE  HER- 
BERT. Elegantly  Illustrated.  Half  bound.  Jr. 25.  Cloth,  gilt. 

*l-75- 

FEET  AND  WINGS; 

Or,  Hours  with  Beasts  and  Birds  with  Uncle  Herbert.     4to.     Il- 
luminated boards.     #1.25.     Extra  cloth.     £2.00. 

THE   PLAYMATE. 

A  Picture  and  Story  Book  for  Boys  and  Girls.  Edited  by 
UNCLE  HERBERT.  Very  fully  Illustrated.  Bound  in  half  cloth, 
gilt  back,  elegant  chromo  side.  $1.25.  Also  in  extra  cloth,  black 
and  gold.  #1.75. 

THE   PRATTLER. 

A  Story  and  Picture  Book  for  Boys  and  Girls.  Edited  by 
UNCLE  HERBERT.  Bound  in  h  ilf  cloth,  gilt  back,  and  illuminated 
boards.  £1.25.  Full  cloth,  extra.  $1.75. 

THE   YOUNGSTER. 

By  COUSIN  DAISY.  With  Illustrations.  Small  4to.  Illumi- 
nated board  covers.  75  cents. 

THE   PICTURE  ALPHABET. 

Containing  Large  Letters,  with  a  Full-paged  Picture  to  each 
Letter,  especially  adapted  to  very  young  children.  By  COUSIN 
DAISY.  Large  410.  Boards,  with  elegant  chromo  sides.  75  cents. 

"MY"   BOOKS. 

Containing — My  Primer;  My  Pet  Book;  My  Own  Book. 
Three  books  bound  in  one  volume.  Edited  by  UNCLE  HERBERT. 
Full  cloth,  black  and  gold.  $1.50.  Boards.  $1.25. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


